


Broadway, Here I Come

by bioticnerfherder



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Theatre, Broadway, F/F, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Minor Poe Dameron/Finn, Minor Wedge Antilles/Luke Skywalker, POV Multiple, a lot of character cameos and name drops, this is basically a Smash AU i am sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-04-18 23:36:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 41,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14224284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bioticnerfherder/pseuds/bioticnerfherder
Summary: Acclaimed author Kylo Ren decides to adapt his best-selling biographical book on his grandparents into a musical and convinces his childhood friend, the composer Poe Dameron, to help. When Poe recruits director Armitage Hux, of both West End and Broadway fame, egos clash and tensions fly high.Meanwhile, the new musical attracts the attention of many hopeful actors. Finn, a dancer, convinces his best friend Rey, a newcomer, to audition with him. Though she wants the part, another actor at the auditions with them catches her eye: Rose Tico.





	1. Overture

**Author's Note:**

> this is what happens when you're going through two months of writer's block and watch cancelled TV shows to cope. so here's yet another modern AU that no one asked for, inspired by the show SMASH. this is going to be super trope-y and melodramatic because it IS Broadway, after all; you have been warned. this is also un-beta'd, all mistakes are mine.
> 
> i have to thank lauren and bria for putting up with how much i've spoken about this AU to them over the past few weeks, they are the only reason this is seeing the light of day.
> 
> and a note on the pairings: this is mainly kylux, but rey/rose is more than a background pairing thus it has been tagged as a main one. finn/poe is tagged as minor because it will be mostly "off-screen."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> overture [noun]: an orchestral composition forming the prelude or introduction to an opera or play; an introductory part.

“Kylo. Be serious.”

“I _am_ serious,” Kylo huffed. “There’s no way in hell I am selling the rights to this book.” Anyone else would have probably withered under Snoke’s steel gaze, but Kylo was used to it by now––it hardly phased him anymore. “This is _my_ book and I can do whatever I want with it. Which, right now, is to refuse even _considering_ selling the movie rights.”

“The Tarkin sisters are offering a great deal––well into seven figures! They’re hungry for another Oscar after their win this year; they even have Aaron Sorkin on board to write the screenplay!”

Kylo pointed a finger at him in warning. “Aaron Sorkin is _not_ getting his grubby, sanctimonious hands on _my_ family’s story.”

Snoke sighed. “You realise this is mostly courtesy? They could get movie rights directly from Amidala’s estate.”

“Which I also have control over, may I remind you,” Kylo interjected, “and would also refuse to sell them. It’s _my_ family. If anyone is going to do any adaptation of my book, it’s going to be _me.”_

“You’re an author, not a script writer.”

Snatching his sunglasses off Snoke’s desk, Kylo stood to indicate the meeting was over. “Exactly.”

“You won’t even _meet_ with them?”

“Why should I?” Kylo shrugged as he slid on his jacket and re-donned his sunglasses. “Meeting with them would give them the hope that I’m considering their offer. I’m not mean enough to do that even if it _would_ get me a free meal at Masa. I can afford that myself now. Oh, and”––Kylo paused in the doorway of Snoke’s office, turning to glance at his agent over his glasses–– “cancel the meeting with HBO, too, since I know you set that one up without running it by me.”

Snoke crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. “And where are you going?”

“Well, first I’m going to take a break for a week since I’ve just gotten back from yet another worldwide book tour for yet another _New York Times_ bestseller. Then I think I’ll get started on writing my next book and _not_ selling the rights to that one, either.”

Leaving his agent fuming in his office, Kylo shut the door with a little too much force before crossing over to the elevator. As he waited, his phone vibrated in his pocket with a text:

_‘Finally back from London. Let’s catch up. –Poe’_

* * *

“So I just wanted to take a quick moment to discuss just how you got here,” Netal said, changing the subject.

Hux grimaced. He was grateful this was a phone interview, or Bazine Netal would certainly have taken offense at his facial expression. He had nothing against her personally, or the website she wrote for; he simply hated interviews for profiles in general, just like this one. They were all the same questions, never any originality––all of the information was on his Wikipedia page anyway, so why different media outlets insisted on doing their own profiles was beyond him.

“You debuted with a revival of _The Mousetrap,”_ Netal went on, “which earned you your first Olivier––the first of many––and immediately made you the director to watch on the West End. The rumour is that you had _many_ offers on the table after that, but you chose to collaborate with Rae Sloane and move over to musical theatre instead; why make that leap?”

“It’s no secret that musical theatre has always been a passion of mine,” Hux said, adding an air of what he hoped sounded like nonchalance to his tone. He clenched his fist, nails digging into his palm, as a reminder to not go off on a tangent or mention Brendol too much. “I have nothing but respect and love for the theatre, but I have to admit I started with straight plays at the behest of my father. But then Rae made her offer. I’m lucky that Rae took a chance when she asked me to direct _Empire’s End,_ and I am grateful for it––I found my niche with musicals.”

“Right,” Netal replied, sounding mildly uninterested and wanting to move the conversation along. “Your repertoire includes impressive titles on both the West End _and_ Broadway, but you’ve been largely based here in New York for the past few years. I have to ask: on which side of the pond do you prefer to work?”

Hux should have expected it––the banal question somehow popped up in almost every interview he did. “That’s a difficult question,” he started, bracing himself for the tacky response Opan, his agent, had come up with: “London is where I grew up, but I do love both cities; they’re so similar and so different at the same time, it’s incomparable.”

“Very diplomatic answer,” Bazine laughed. “So what’s next for you, Armitage? Now that _Resistance_ has finished its fairly impressive run, are there any new productions you’re working on that we should keep an eye out for?”

“There are a few negotiations going on currently, but nothing I’m allowed to discuss publicly. You’ll have to await the press release,” Hux hoping his tone was casual enough and carried over the phone; he added a short chuckle just in case.

Netal cleared her throat. “Well, thank you for your time, Armitage. The article should be up on Broadway-dot-com by Thursday. Always a pleasure!”

She’d hung up by the time Hux managed a ‘goodbye.’

Sighing, Hux picked up his phone and stopped the audio recording. Since the hack job article in the _Times_ ––one that nearly brought on a defamation lawsuit from Andrew Lloyd Webber––Hux had taken to recording every interview he did. Phasma called it paranoid; Opan called it excessive; _Hux_ called it precautious, which was why his Google Drive now had an entire folder dedicated to bad audio recordings of interviews.

The press were absolutely ruthless and took any opportunity to twist one’s words: Hux was just ensuring it never happened to him again.

After renaming and uploading the audio clip, Hux checked his messages: two emails from Opan, a text from Phasma, and a voicemail from Poe. He listened to that one first, putting it on speaker as he stood from his couch to top up Millicent’s bowl.

_“Huuuuuuux. Armitage. I’m back! From London, that is. But you knew that. My Airbnb was great––and in the perfect location, thanks for recommending it! Opening night went well: the cast is really good and the Novello was really the best choice of theater. I should thank you for that, too. Oh and, for the record, Vivian Malarus is great and all but she’s not you! I missed working with you, buddy! So now that I’m back, let’s talk. I don’t have any new projects yet but I want to see if I can get you onboard for whatever’s next, whenever that may be. And we haven’t had a drink in ages, it’s way overdue––call me back or text me! You have my number!”_

Hux rolled his eyes and bent over to scratch at Millicent’s ear, the cat having suddenly reappeared at the smell of food. “Poe’s a bit over-enthusiastic, don’t we think, Millie?”

Millicent ignored him in favour of nibbling at the fresh kibble.

“I’ll call him back tomorrow,” Hux reasoned aloud. “I’ve no desire to do anything but take a break tonight––I only just reclaimed my nights from _Poe’s_ damn musical.”

Millicent glanced up at him and mewed, as if saying _‘and neglecting me for too long,’_ before turning back to her food.

Hux pursed his lips and stared at his cat for a moment. Maybe he _should_ go out tonight.

He retrieved his phone to text Phasma back, but ended up also refusing her invitation to dinner. The book on his coffee table gave him a better idea: ordering Thai food and curling up in bed with _Lost Royalty: The True Story of Padmé Amidala and Anakin Skywalker_ sounded sublime.

* * *

“One medium chai latte with almond milk _and_ two chocolate croissants,” Rey sang softly. She placed the drink and one of the pastries in front of Finn before taking the seat opposite him and tearing a piece out of her croissant.

“Rey!” Finn glanced behind him, towards the counter. “You’ll get in trouble, shouldn’t you be at the register?”

Rey stole a sip of his chai. “Don’t be daft, I’m on break. And this is my ‘welcome back’ treat to you––I missed you!”

Finn eyed her skeptically for a second and broke into a grin. “I missed you too, peanut.” He picked up his croissant and bit into it, humming in pleasure at the taste. “You guys really have the best croissants in Brooklyn.”

“Duh,” Rey said around a mouthful. “So, how are you feeling? Still tired after the tour? The bus back from Chicago must have been hellish, I’m surprised you’re alive right now.”

“It was fine.” Finn paused to drink. “I had the row to myself and my neck pillow––yes, the one you gave me, thank you––and took some Nyquil. Spent most of the ride passed out.”

Rey smiled at her friend. “Poor peanut,” she lamented, lightly tapping him on the nose. “But I’m sure the _national tour_ of _Kinky Boots_ was worth it.”

“I was just ensemble,” Finn dismissed, rolling his eyes.

“It’s still your foot in the door.”

Finn hummed into his drink. “Say, what are you doing tonight?”

“I’m here till one and then I’m in the shop until close, why?” She finished off her croissant and took another sip of Finn’s chai.

“You’re still working at iFixScreens?”

“Of course,” she said defensively. “I get to tinker with stuff and the hours they give me are good––now why are you asking me about tonight?”

Finn chewed on his lip apprehensively for a beat. “Let’s get dinner, too.”

“We’re having breakfast together already,” Rey said, “but you want to get dinner too. Which means you’re––no!”

“Sorry?”

He sounded sincere––good, Rey would have been pissed if he weren’t.

“You’re leaving me again?”

“Just for three weeks,” Finn explained. “It’s only temporary, I’m only filling in for someone.”

“Filling in for––” Rey gasped. “No, don’t tell me you’re going back to _them?”_

Finn’s silence answered for him.

“Finn you can’t, you promised yourself you weren’t going to work for them ever again.”

He sighed. “Like I said, Rey––it’s only temporary. Slip found out the _Kinky Boots_ tour was over and called me; he said one of their dancers is injured. They need someone for the next three weeks, and I already know all the choreography. I leave in the morning.”

“But they don’t treat you well,” Rey argued. “You said it yourself, you hated every moment dancing with them––and you fucking _love_ dancing!”

“It pays well, and it’s _only_ three weeks.”

“You said that last time. And Nines roped you in for six whole months.” She set her hand down on the table, palm up; Finn accepted it immediately, clasping her hand tightly. “You were always so upset whenever we talked. I’m just worried about you; I don’t want you to go through that again.”

And she meant it: she wasn’t one to back away from a well-paying job, nor did she want her best friend to turn one down either. But she also wanted to protect Finn from being as miserable as he was on the last _Storm_ tour––he was her family, the only person alive she would ever hold hands with, and she’d willingly fight anyone who hurt him.

“I know,” Finn said, smiling back at her. “And I appreciate your concern, I really do. But it’ll be fine: the contract is only for three weeks, and if they want me longer they’ll have to negotiate. And I know better this time.” He winked.

Rey half-smiled back at him, not entirely convinced. “But you should be _here_ , Finn. Not only with me, but auditioning. You’re an _actor,_ not just some back up dancer to some trashy boy band who lip sync all their performances. You’re an insane dancer and I don’t know anyone who can sing like you––”

“––except _you,”_ Finn interrupted.

“Yes but that’s besides the point,” Rey continued. “If you want to be on Broadway, as something more than in the ensemble, you have to be _here_ going to auditions.”

“What about you?”

“I have been going!” she huffed. “I have one next week, in fact. Not my fault I haven’t gotten cast but it’s not for lack of trying. So stop trying to turn this conversation around on me.”

He sighed. “You’re right, Rey. But this is the last tour, honestly: this paycheck from _Storm_ will keep me comfortable for a little bit, comfortable enough that I’ll be able to audition without stressing about rent or part-time work for a few weeks. Let me do this? I know how to take care of myself around them, now.”

Rey pursed her lips. “But you have to call me everyday.”

“I’ll call you everyday,” Finn laughed.

“And if Slip or Nines say anything untoward to you again you _will_ tell me and let me punch them both?”

At that, Finn rolled his eyes. “I can’t promise you that, peanut, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

He squeezed her hand one more time before letting go to finish picking at his croissant.

Rey took another sip of his drink, trying not to grimace at the now tepid chai.

“I did mean it.”

* * *

Poe was already two beers in by the time Kylo sat across the table from him; he’d walked past the bar, some dingy hole-in-the-wall dive, twice on his way here but he wasn’t _that_ late. Poe must have started early.

“So good to see you, buddy!” Poe greeted him, leaning across the table to give him an over enthusiastic pat on the shoulder. “What can I get you? It’s been too long!”

“Yeah,” Kylo agreed. “Just get me whatever you’re having, I’ll get the next round.”

“You got it.” Poe gestured at the bartender, who acknowledged him with a thumbs up. “I’m so glad we’re finally doing this, I’m sorry it’s only taken us _months_ to meet up.”

“Not your fault––you’d just left for London when I moved back. Bad timing, is all.”

“Right. Anyway, be right back.” Poe winked at him: the trademark Dameron wink. He got up and crossed the (fairly empty for a Tuesday night) bar, collected two beer bottles and four shots from the waiting bartender, and somehow impressively managed to carry all of it back to the table without incident. He slid two of the shots and one beer towards Kylo and sat down before raising one of his own shots. “Cheers; here’s to old friends reconnecting.”

“Cheers,” Kylo repeated, lightly tapping his shot against Poe’s and downing it. The vodka––Poe’s preferred alcohol for doing shots––burned slightly, but over the years Kylo had grown used to it.

“So,” Poe started, and Kylo braced himself for the interrogation. “How’s New York been treating you? Are you regretting moving back yet?”

“You get too nosey and I might start.”

“Come on, I haven’t seen you in years, Benny!”

Kylo fixed him with a warning look. “I’ll excuse that one because you’re halfway tipsy and it’s been a while, but that’s all you get.”

Poe threw his hands up in an apologetic gesture. “Right, sorry. Won’t happen again.” He threw back his second shot, and Kylo followed suit. “But do tell me about moving back––I’ve heard of so many people moving _to_ the West Coast, but never anyone moving _back_ to New York from the West Coast.” Poe lowered his voice melodramatically. “Has the winter broken your spirit yet? Are you already planning on going back?”

 _“Please,_ I grew up with this weather––winter is going to have to try a lot harder to break me.”

“Shh!” Poe pressed his finger to his lips. “She’ll hear you and she _will_ try!”

Kylo rolled his eyes. “Truthfully, it’s good to be back. I thought it was a terrible idea when Snoke first suggested it but––”

“Ugh, that creep. Why do you keep him around again?”

“He might be...eccentric, and yes, a little creepy,” Kylo said defensively, “but he’s got plenty of connections, both in and out of the literary world––he’s a good agent.”

“Right, okay,” Poe dismissed. “Have you spoken to––”

“Yes, we’re in contact and I don’t want to discuss them tonight,” Kylo interrupted.

“Fair enough. Just wanted to make sure your parents at least know you’re back on this side of the country.”

Kylo scowled and did his second shot. It really wasn’t Poe’s business. “Thank you for your _concern.”_

Poe frowned at him. “All right. Sorry––I won’t mention it again. I know there’s...tension. I just wanted to catch up with an old friend, so I will get us more to drink”––he got up again, shushing Kylo before he could protest about getting the next round––“and we will do exactly that.”

Over the next few drinks, they chatted about their latest undertakings and life events: Poe was just back from London, having spent five months there to help the West End production of his most recent musical get up and running. He claimed to be considering a short break now, having written the music and lyrics for four musicals in the past few years. Kylo, on the other hand, was already jotting down ideas for his next book and had filled an entire page of notes on his phone just in the Uber on the way home from Snoke’s office. Though _Lost Royalty_ had been a _very_ successful first foray into nonfiction, he had an idea for some kind of dystopian Wild West novel next.

“No partner? No significant other in your life?” Poe asked, seemingly innocently.

They’d switched over to whiskey and had ordered a basket of curly fries; Kylo watched Poe eat the last one with a twinge of regret and considered ordering another.

“No,” Kylo said dismissively. “No time––my _writing_ is my significant other.”

“Only lonely people say that.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re one to talk; _you’re_ still single. And, by the way, _Lost Royalty_ took me over a year to write––which you would know if you’d read it.”

Poe half-grinned, half-grimaced. “Okay, you caught me.”

“That wounds me,” Kylo complained, clutching his chest in mock pain. “My childhood friend hasn’t read my magnum opus even though I _know_ my mother gave him a copy.”

“Kylo, you told me all those stories so _many fucking times_ when we were kids––I don’t need to read the book because you’ve already told me everything that happens in it.” Poe paused to drink. “If it means that much to you, I’ll read it.”

“You’re right,” Kylo admitted. “I _did_ talk about Padmé and Anakin a _lot_ when we were younger.”

Poe chuckled. “I’m glad you can finally admit it.”

“Mhmm.” Kylo took a sip of his own whiskey, letting silence fall over them for a minute. “Can you _believe_ that Snoke wants me to sell the movie rights?” he asked, just to end the lull in the conversation.

“Movie rights?” Poe clapped once. “That’s great! Congrats!”

Kylo shook his head. “No! I refused to sell them!”

“Why the fuck not?”

Kylo scoffed. “I will _not_ have my grandparents’ story be used as the Tarkin sisters’ next Oscar-bait movie. Padmé and Anakin deserve better than that.”

“Hey!” Poe argued. “ _Death Star_ was a fantastic movie––it deserved all those awards. The Tarkin sisters would do your grandparents’ story justice.”

“Orson Krennic disagrees, his review was scathing. And if _anyone_ is doing _any_ adaptation of _my_ book,” Kylo said, punctuating his words by knocking his knuckles on the table, “it will be _me_. I wouldn’t trust anyone else to tell this story.”

Poe held Kylo’s gaze as he went for another sip of his drink. “So...why don’t you?”

“Why don’t I what?”

“Do an adaptation yourself.” Poe shrugged. “Your book is a bestseller. People want to know the story. And I’m sure they’d be more than willing to consume it in other mediums, too.”

Kylo laughed. “Next you’ll say I should write it as a musical.”

Poe hummed, mulling it over. “That’s not actually a bad idea.”

Kylo almost choked on his whiskey; he spat half of his mouthful onto the table and, grimacing, picked up a wad of napkins from the dispenser to clean it up. He must have been drunker than he’d thought, because he was obviously mishearing things. “I’m sorry, _what_ did you say?”

“Come on; political intrigue? Forbidden love? A background of conflict? These are all elements that would make a perfect musical. It’s _Broadway_ baby! We love all that drama!”

“Uh-huh,” Kylo deadpanned, taking another sip of his whiskey to replace what was lost. “And what kind of music would it feature?”

Poe grinned. “Oh, a romantic duet for the ages, of _course._ Then there could be a Padmé solo in which she discusses her legacy––think the scale of _Don’t Cry For Me Argentina––_ and _that_ could be a sort of...follow up to one early on where she makes her choice to pursue politics. _Hamilton_ did the whole cabinet debates as rap battle thing, there could be something similar. Oh!” He slapped the table excitedly. “A show-stopping dance-filled number for the villain, those are _huge_ these days.”

“You’re just pulling my leg, aren’t you?”

“I kind of was at first but now I’m only half joking. What did your grandparents always sign their super secret letters with? Wasn’t it something like… _‘always yours, even across the stars?’_ And if ‘across the stars’ doesn’t _scream_ love duet title, I don’t know what does.”

Kylo narrowed his eyes at Poe. “This isn’t the first time you’ve thought about this, isn’t it?”

“Honestly, I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t,” he admitted.

Maybe he _was_ too drunk; maybe it _was_ time to head home for the night. Instead, Kylo considered Poe’s ludicrous idea for a moment, tapping his glass with his index finger a few times.

Then he grinned.

“Sounds like it could be fun.”

* * *

Rose woke, as usual, to vibrating walls and the click-clack of the subway, the rumbling 1 train outside her window more effective than her tinny alarm. The sky was just beginning to pink; her alarm was set for sunrise, so at least her timing wasn’t too off this morning.

After setting her electric kettle to heat up, she went for a shower; she grit her teeth as she hopped under the cold spray, having completely forgotten the building’s boiler was still out. She’d have to stop by the gym for a hot shower today, or ask Finch if she could shower at his place, but for now she had a long day ahead and no time for detours.

“Good morning, sis,” Rose greeted as she headed into the kitchen, back in her pajamas for now. “Busy day today. But I’m excited! Now that _Resistance_ ’s run is over I’ve got a few auditions lined up.”

There was no response.

“I’m so grateful that Poe got me that minor speaking role,” she went on, “but I _am_ looking forward to some of these auditions. Maybe I’ll get something bigger than ensemble or my part in _Resistance_?” She grabbed her favourite mug out of the cabinet and poured the boiling water into it, throwing in a tea bag to steep. “They’re doing a tour of _The King and I._ And I know you hated me going after stereotyped parts, but this might actually be a chance for me to get a lead––I can’t believe Fossil managed to get me an audition at all!”

Rose hummed as she retrieved a pack of instant oatmeal, added water to the bowl, and put it in the microwave.

“Don’t worry, I do have other auditions. And I’m grateful that you introduced me to Poe at all because I don’t know if I would have gotten into _Resistance_ if I didn’t know hi _––”_ Rose cleared her throat and sighed. “Sorry, I know you don’t like it when I get down on myself like that. Poe obviously saw something in me to help me get a part.”

Once her oatmeal was ready, she grabbed the sad mush in one hand and her tea in the other. She crossed the kitchenette of her small studio apartment to the coffee table doubling as her dining table; tucking her legs under her as she sat down, she set her breakfast on the table and started eating.

Rose glanced up at the framed photo of Paige above her; it smiled back.

“You always believed in me. I promise I’ll make you proud.”

* * *

“Fuck.”

Kylo grabbed his jacket, which at some point in the night had fallen off his chest and onto the floor, and draped it over his face. Poe apparently didn’t have curtains in his living room, so now the sun was brightly––and painfully––filling his field of vision.

“I’m too old to be drinking like _that,”_ Kylo muttered to himself. Even moving his _jaw_ hurt.

After a few minutes of just lying on Poe’s couch, Kylo drifted off again; the next time he woke there was, blissfully, a cloud passing over the sun and it was therefore much less painful to open his eyes.

Slowly getting up, he stretched out every muscle one by one, making note to never pass out on a couch again: though his head was throbbing a little less than it was earlier, his neck was stiff and sleeping at an odd angle had his limbs sore. He went to the bathroom to relieve himself and splash some water on his face, noting that Poe’s bedroom door was still closed––he must still be asleep. Kylo decided to help himself to the contents of Poe’s fridge; it was surprisingly well-stocked (in comparison to Kylo’s fridge, at least) so he forewent the leftover take-out and made a plate of scrambled eggs with probably too much cheese. He devoured the entire thing standing there at the counter, thought he maybe should have left some for Poe, but shrugged it off––Poe could just make some whenever he woke up and decided to grace Kylo with his presence.

Kylo poured himself a large glass of pineapple juice, because he was too lazy to make coffee, and settled back on the couch before digging through his jacket pocket for his phone. There were a few emails from Snoke––mainly begging him to reconsider the movie deal among other business––and a text from his mother expressing happiness that he was with Poe (either Poe had informed her or he’d been drunk enough to let her know himself), but when Kylo opened the phone, the Notes app was open to a fairly lengthy piece of writing.

But it wasn’t prose, no; it was a _script._

He remembered joking with Poe about doing a musical adaptation of his book, but had drunk him actually sat down and started _writing_ it?

Kylo sipped the pineapple juice as he read over what he’d apparently written last night: a confrontation between Padmé and Palpatine, an event he’d covered in his book and remembered very well. The dialogue was...actually good––Kylo could just _hear_ his grandmother saying the words. Her syntax had always been so deliberate and prudent, and it showed here. The scene was unfinished, but at the bottom was a note: _QUEEN THE MUSICAL_.

He re-read the whole thing. He frowned, considering the half-finished scene, and, after finishing the glass of juice, Kylo set his phone in landscape mode and continued writing.

Poe emerged just in shorts about an hour later, cursing under his breath as he first went to the bathroom, only realising he wasn’t alone and closing the door at the last minute. Kylo ignored him, intent on finishing this scene: he was in a groove, and if he was interrupted before the scene was over then he’d lose his flow. Meanwhile, Poe mumbled a half-hearted greeting as he went to his kitchen and heated something up in the microwave; Kylo was too concentrated to check what.

“Done!” he proclaimed a few minutes later, grinning smugly at his phone.

“Done what?” Poe asked, having procured a t-shirt, standing in the kitchen doorway with a bowl and spoon in his hands.

Kylo set his phone down and crossed his arms. “Just finished a scene for _Queen_ , the musical.” He smirked at Poe.

Poe chewed on another bite of whatever he was eating, watching Kylo with a confused look before realising. “You’re not actually––”

“Yes, I am,” Kylo said. “Yes I did, to be precise: it’s started, so the project is go.”

“You’re...you’re going to write a _musical.”_

“With your help,” Kylo clarified. “Because you know my music reading and writing skills are pretty elementary compared to yours.”

Poe stared at him for a long moment. “We’re not doing this.”

“Yes, we are.”

“Ben–– Kylo,” Poe corrected when Kylo shot him an annoyed look. “You’re a great author, I love your books––”

 _“Book,”_ Kylo interrupted, “because you’ve only _read_ one of them.”

“––that doesn’t mean the others are bad, but look, what I’m saying is that––writing a script, for a movie, let alone a play or _musical,_ it’s not easy! It’s not just ‘let’s sing a quick harmony between lines,’ it’s...it’s different from what you’re used to. It’s not the same; you can’t just jump from one ship to the other.”

“But you said last night––”

“I _know_ what I said, Kylo,” Poe sighed. “But we were drunk and having a laugh. It wasn’t serious.”

Kylo stood from the couch and crossed the living room to where Poe stood, bringing his phone with him. “Just read this.”

“What is it?” Poe asked, hesitation in his voice even as he accepted the phone.

“First draft of a confrontation between Padmé and Palpatine,” Kylo responded as he padded over to Poe’s upright piano. A knowing smirk crossed his lips as he silently lifted its fallboard. He leaned against its side and crossed his arms, keeping his gaze trained on Poe’s reaction.

Once he finished reading, Poe lowered the phone and pursed his lips for a moment. He opened his mouth, shut it again; he scratched at his chin with his other hand, took a deep breath, and finally turned back to Kylo.

“Stay right there. I’ll get my notebook.”


	2. Act One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the first act: the setup; the catalyst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is also un-beta'd, all mistakes are mine!

“We need to start thinking about directors,” Poe announced as he swept into his apartment, a tray of three Starbucks coffees in one hand and a frappuccino in the other.

Kylo accepted one of the coffees and raised his eyebrow at the rest. “Why do we need so much coffee? It’s just the three of us.”

“I don’t, um, actually drink coffee,” Rose chimed in from the piano stool.

“Which is why I brought you a chai,” Poe answered as he handed her the drink. He took a sip of his frappuccino, set the last drink down on his coffee table, and grabbed his music notebook. “So, Kylo, directors?” he asked, steadfastly ignoring Kylo’s question.

Kylo decided to let it go for now. “Poe, we have the barebones of a musical right now. All that stuff can wait.”

“We have plenty,” Poe insisted.

“Four songs, probably like...five scenes, a few more choruses, and a _very_ general outline. It’s just the foundations––the blueprint of the final product.”

“A lot of the other songs will be reprises and revisit most of the musical themes I’ve already laid out,” Poe said. “Besides, the blueprint is the most important part, right, Rose?”

They both turned to her, expectant; Rose glanced between them before she answered: “I’ve never written a musical before, I’m not sure.”

Kylo smirked at Poe. “I’m glad you brought her in. I like her.”

“Good.” Poe exchanged a smile with her. “And you’ve been doing an _excellent_ job of bringing our music for _Padmé_ alive.”

“We have a _name_ for the musical, Poe, it––”

“It’s a _working title,”_ he corrected, “and it’s terrible so we’re going to fix that as _soon_ as possible. Anyway”––Poe snapped the fingers on his free hand twice––“directors, Kylo. Focus.”

Poe slurped the last few drops of his frappuccino loudly and set the cup down before crossing over to the piano, shooing Rose off the stool. She dutifully went to stand next to it while Poe started playing scales for her to warm up.

Kylo watched all this, frowning, and took a sip of his coffee. “If you really want to talk about that, fine; I don’t have anyone in mind because I don’t think we actually need to think about it right now.”

“I have someone in mind.”

Kylo rolled his eyes, not at all shocked. “Who?”

“A buddy of mine who I think would be _perfect_ for this project,” Poe explained. “He’s free right now but I know he’s got some negotiations going on––I want to nab him now before he signs on with something else.”

“Is this a _‘buddy,’”_ Kylo asked, gesturing the inverted commas with his fingers, “or is this a friend?”

Poe laughed and stopped playing to turn and look at Kylo. “He’s a friend. Hux _wishes._ He’s good-looking and all but not my type––fun to work with, a genius at what he does, but kind of uptight sometimes. Skinny, kinda pasty. Still cute though; you’d probably like him.”

Kylo forgot to breathe for a beat. “Hux? Do you mean Armitage Hux?”

“Oh, so you’ve heard of him?”

Rose gasped. “Now that you mention it, Hux _would_ be perfect for this: political dramas are right up his alley. His choreography for _Resistance_ was amazing.”

Poe grinned at her. “I appreciate the support, Rose.” He started playing again, this time a simple melody for his own warm up. “So, Kylo, you’ve heard of him then?”

Kylo hadn’t just _heard_ of Armitage Hux––they’d practically swallowed each others’ faces in London several years ago. Kylo had been on his first book tour when Snoke had somehow gotten him tickets to one of Hux’s premieres _and_ its afterparty. Hux had been ready to follow Kylo back to his hotel until Snoke had intervened, insisting Kylo was drunk and shouldn’t have _company_ the night before an early book reading.

He hadn’t seen Hux since: he’d never been able to see any of Hux’s other productions, neither in London nor in New York. And Snoke wasn’t exactly willing to pull any of his numerous strings to arrange tickets or a private meeting anymore, either. All contact Kylo had of Hux now was an Instagram account filled with cat photos, behind-the-scenes and promotional shots from various productions, and sponsored ads (of mostly cat-related products, oddly enough).

“Yeah,” Kylo said, belatedly realising he hadn’t answered Poe’s question. “I saw his production of _Billy Elliot_ in London a few years back.”

Poe hummed. “So you know he’s good.”

“The show was good so...I guess he’s talented.”

_With his tongue, too,_ his mind silently added. Kylo scowled internally at himself.

“Are you sure we need to think about directors _now,_ though?” Kylo asked instead.

“Well,” Rose answered for Poe, “producing musicals, especially new ones, are such long-term projects that the earlier on you can get a director, the easier it will be later. Hux has a Tony and several Oliviers under his belt––no doubt his agent has him going through several negotiations right now.”

Kylo stared at her. Rose shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

“Kylo don’t be an ass, you just said you like her,” Poe said, without turning around. “She’s right, and you should listen to her because you are new to the world of Broadway. Let us teach you how it’s done around here. Rose, do you need a few more scales or do you feel warmed up?”

“I warmed up a little at home, too, so I’m okay,” she answered.

Kylo rolled his eyes at the dismissal of his concerns. True, he was a fish out of water, but this was still primarily _his_ project.

“Great!” Poe clapped his hands and flipped through his sheet music, setting something up on his piano’s music stand. He glanced at his phone and set it on top of the piano. “Because Hux is _right_ on time and you’re about to sing for him.”

“What?” Kylo looked between the front door of the apartment and Poe so fast he felt his neck crack; Hux was coming _here? Now?_

The doorbell rang.

“Who did you think the last coffee was for?” Poe asked, smirking, before he yelled, “Come on in! I left it open!”

Hux somehow looked _better_ than Kylo remembered: his navy Crombie coat and grey pants cut an impressive figure, and his damn Oxfords were still perfectly polished despite the slush and left over snow outside; he’d grown out his hair a little, making it long enough for a ‘windswept’ look; his cheekbones looked sharp enough to cut glass.

Kylo suddenly felt underdressed in his ratty jeans and seven-year-old t-shirt. How _dare_ Hux show up at Poe’s apartment, intruding on a _casual_ writing session, looking like _that?_

“Hello,” Hux greeted.

God, even his _voice_ sounded better than Kylo’s memories of it.

“Thanks for coming!” Poe got up and shook Hux’s hand, clasping him on the back with the other hand.

Hux accepted the greeting stiffly––his mouth remained in a straight line, without a smile.

“Hello Rose,” he greeted her next. “Poe recruited you, too?”

She waved at him. “Yep. Poe and Kylo have got some really good stuff, it’s been awesome to sing it so far.”

At that, all eyes turned to Kylo. He felt himself shrink under Hux’s gaze; Kylo hated the feeling. It hadn’t been like this in London––why was he suddenly so intimidated now? No, that wouldn’t do. He needed to take control of this situation.

“Oh, Hux, this is Kylo Ren, author of––”

“I know,” Hux interrupted Poe. He flashed a stiff, apologetic half-smile at him before returning his gaze to Kylo and nodding. “It’s good to see you again.”

Poe visibly straightened, both intrigued and shocked by this revelation. “You two know each other?”

Hux opened his mouth to respond but Kylo spoke over him. “Yeah, I was at the London premiere of _Billy Elliot_ and we met at the afterparty.” He tried to speak with finality, not even deigning to look at Hux even though, from the corner of his eye, Kylo could see him staring at him––he was almost daring Hux to elaborate.

He didn’t take the bait. “Yes, what he said,” Hux confirmed instead.

“Great, so no introductions needed!” Poe picked up the last coffee from the paper tray and handed it to Hux. “Caramel macchiato with triple espresso shots, right?”

“You remembered?” Hux asked, sounding surprised.

“Of course I did,” Poe dismissed. He flashed his trademark Dameron wink and returned to sit by the piano.

Hux still didn’t manage more than a half-smile, but this one looked genuine. “I appreciate that, Poe.”

Kylo was not jealous. He _wasn’t._

Instead of paying too much attention to the others in the room, Kylo reached for his laptop and opened his drafts. He most definitely did _not_ watch Hux hang up his coat, revealing the white button-up and dark teal cardigan underneath, and circle the coffee table to sit on the other end of the couch: this script was more important than Hux.

“How was the flight?” Poe said, making smalltalk.

“Dreadful. Opan couldn’t get a business class seat so I was in economy plus; my back will never forgive me.”

“Where were you?” Rose asked.

Kylo frowned as he tried to tune everyone else out to just keep writing.

“Oh, Sydney,” Hux explained. “Had a meeting for a potential show.”

“You haven’t said yes to anyone yet, have you?”

Hux scoffed. “Do you think I’d be here in your apartment if I had? Besides, the last time we spoke you said you were considering a break so I am, frankly, intrigued. What happened?”

Poe laughed. “What, when I got back from London? I did say that, but I also said––”

“––that you wanted me onboard with whatever your next project was, whenever that was, yes.”

Kylo _did_ glance up to glare at Poe for a second; he’d been thinking about recruiting Hux for _weeks_ and only mentioned it now, right before Hux showed up at his apartment?

Poe ignored him. “Well, this one sort of fell into my lap, and I just couldn’t say no. And I think this kind of story is right up your alley.”

“I agree,” Hux said. “Padmé Amidala’s life was so fascinating, so––”

“Sorry,” Kylo interrupted. He couldn’t help himself. “This isn’t just about Padmé, it’s about Anakin Skywalker, too. Do you even _know_ the story?”

Hux looked at him with an expression that was a mix of confusion, indignation, and surprise.

“Well?”

“O-of course,” he stammered. “I understand your book was a passion project, Ren. You must be very defensive of it.”

“Don’t get him started,” Poe lamented. He swiveled back around on his piano stool and set his hands on the keys. “Let’s play you some of what we have so far, hm? Rose, you ready?”

She nodded, and Poe began to play the opening notes for Padmé’s final number. They were still debating over the title, but Poe seemed to have settled on _Requiem for Naboo;_ Kylo wasn’t too sure about it but couldn’t think of a better title, so it stuck for now.

Rose came in at her cue; Kylo turned back to his laptop, occasionally glancing at Hux’s reaction from the corner of his eye. Hux seemed to love it: by the first refrain, his right hand was moving in time with the song as if he was conducting an orchestra, there was half-smile on his lips, and his posture had relaxed. When Poe and Rose went straight into the duet, with Poe softly singing to fill in for Anakin’s part, Hux was practically grinning. Kylo felt his own mood lifting, despite telling himself he shouldn’t be so affected by Hux’s reaction or his approval; he dismissed it by reasoning that Hux was the first outsider––besides Rose––to hear their music, and if his response was positive it meant they were heading in the right direction. It meant that _Queen: the Musical_ would be a success.

“So?” Poe asked after he’d played the introduction and chorus of one of Anakin’s songs. “What do you think?”

“It was great,” Hux said. The smile had gone from his face and his back was stiff again, but there was something different in his eyes: an enthusiasm that wasn’t there before. “The music you have so far is––it’s something else.”

A phone alarm went off, interrupting whatever Hux was going to say next.

“Sorry!” Rose exclaimed, scrambling across the room to her bag. She shut off the alarm and smiled apologetically at Poe, then Hux. “Sorry, that’s my reminder that I gotta get going. I have a job interview.”

“An audition?” Poe asked, eyebrows raising.

“No, just a job interview,” she explained, looking somewhat embarrassed. “I didn’t get _The King and I_ so I’m looking for a part-time job to tide me over in the meantime.”

“Oh,” Poe said lamely. “Well, thank you so much for taking the time to be here today.”

“Yes,” Hux chimed in. “It was lovely––you did an excellent job.”

Rose blushed. “Oh, um, thank you. It was my pleasure.” She grabbed her bag and coat before awkwardly shuffling towards the door. “Um, I hope...the rest of this session is productive?”

Poe waved at her. “Bye, Rose, I’ll text you!”

She nodded at him and ducked out of the door before anything else could be said.

“Isn’t she great?” Poe gushed to Hux as soon as the door was closed behind her.

“She is,” Hux agreed. “After you left for London I had her moved up to Cassie’s first alternate, did she tell you?”

Kylo seemed to have disappeared; Poe and Hux had apparently forgotten he was in the room.

Poe gasped. “Really? No she didn’t!”

“Sadly it was right before we were told our run would be ending; she only got to play Lyra twice before we were pulled.”

“That’s a pity.” Poe frowned. “Rose was probably an amazing Lyra.”

Hux hummed. “Why don’t I remember her audition? I’d have recommended her for a much bigger role.”

“She auditioned late,” Poe explained. “She had some family problems so I let her reschedule––it was when you had to make that emergency trip to London, remember?”

Kylo cleared his throat. Both men turned to look at him, surprised, as if suddenly remembering he was there.

“No, don’t let me interrupt your riveting conversation.” He scowled.

Hux stared at him, dumbstruck; Poe just rolled his eyes, retrieved his notebook from the piano, and moved to sit in the armchair next to them.

“Right,” Hux said after Poe sat again, “we should be talking about the project. Have you found a producer yet?”

“No, but I’m going to contact Amilyn Holdo––I think she’d be interested in this project.”

Hux raised an eyebrow at Poe. “Holdo? I’ve never worked with her before. But in terms of other personnel, I know Phasma hasn’t got anything going on right now––I could ask her if she’d be interested in conducting?”

Kylo also wanted to question Poe, as it was the first he was hearing about Holdo, but that could wait until later, when Hux was gone and _not_ already trying to micromanage _Kylo’s_ musical. “Sorry,” he said, “but I don’t think we reached an agreement. On if we’re bringing you on to work with us or not.”

“Kylo,” Poe warned.

He could see Poe glaring daggers at him from the corner of his eye but he ignored Poe and instead looked at Hux expectantly. Hux looked taken aback again, as if not expecting to _not_ be offered the director spot.

Hux stared back at Kylo for a moment, considering. Then, clearing his face into a neutral expression, he shrugged. “If you really want me to audition I’m sure I could rustle up a few dancers and put together a routine. Do you have a full or half-complete upbeat number yet, Poe? One I could choreograph?”

Kylo grit his teeth. He’d assumed Hux thought too highly of himself to have to _audition_ for something. Either he really liked Poe and Rose’s demos and the idea of this project, or he was trying to take the high road just to spite Kylo. Which Kylo would _not_ stand for: this was _his_ musical and he would not be shown up. He had to demonstrate just who was in charge here.

“That won’t be necessary, I think,” Kylo said, interrupting what Poe was about to say. “I trust Poe’s judgement well enough. Have your agent contact us and we’ll whip up some kind of contract. But I _do_ reserve the right to fire you if I don’t like your work on this project.”

It worked: Kylo could see Hux’s jaw clench and his nostrils flare, even though he tried to keep his expression unaffected.

Kylo grinned at him, a touch sardonically. “Welcome aboard.”

* * *

Rey bolted down the hallway at the sound of the doorbell, throwing open her front door with a wide grin.

“Peanut!” she yelled as she attacked Finn with a hug.

“Oof,” Finn complained. He simply stood there and let Rey hug him, unable to reciprocate because of the bags in his arms. “Missed you too, Rey.”

She finally released him, grabbing his duffel bag to lighten his load, and ushered him into the apartment. “You always do,” she teased in a sing-song voice. “Well, welcome back. I’ll forgive you for being gone an extra few weeks, so long as you forgive me for not wanting to hear stories about that sad excuse for a boyband and their main backup dancers.”

Finn chuckled. “What if one of them was about Nines falling off the stage one night and breaking his arm?”

“Does it make me a bad person if that story sounds like it would genuinely entertain me, simply because of my dislike for him?”

Finn gestured ‘a little bit’ with his thumb and index finger. Rey laughed, pushing Finn by the shoulders down the hall.

“Not the living room?” Finn asked as Rey led him to her room.

She shook her head. “Teedo has decided no overnight guests in common areas.”

“But...you have a futon in the living room.”

“I know.” She let go of his shoulders to open her door, chucking his bag on the floor by her bed. “But I can’t exactly complain if I want to keep my room.”

Finn set his other bag down and dropped onto Rey’s bed, sighing in relief. “Remind me why you still live with him in this musty apartment?”

Rey shut her door, just in case her roommate-slash-landlord came home in time to hear them complain about him. “Because his apartment is rent-controlled so he can rent me this room for cheap? At least _my_ landlord doesn’t rent out my room on Airbnb when I’m away.”

“Hey, when have _you_ left the city in two years?” Finn complained. “At least by letting her do that she halves my rent when I’m away.”

“Oh, sorry I’m not constantly going on tours,” Rey huffed. She rolled her eyes before sitting on the bed next to him. “My contract with Teedo is up in May, though. He’ll probably jack up my rent and I’ll have to go with it; there’s no shortage of potential new tenants for him.”

Finn lay down, letting his feet dangle off the side of the bed. “We should find a place together. I’m not technically on a lease, so I can leave anytime.”

She turned around to look down at him, bringing her legs up onto the bed and crossing them. “Does this mean you’re serious about staying? No more tours?”

“No more tours,” he confirmed. “At least for a little bit. I think my resume is strong enough to get me something more long-term here.”

Rey clapped her hands twice, a grin spreading across her face. “Yay! Oh, Finn, I’m so happy––this is going to be great!”

Finn smiled back at her. “Roommates, then?”

“Uh, yeah!”

He held his hand out and she shook it in a mock deal. “Nice doing business with you,” he commented; they both laughed. “I should tell you,” Finn went on, “I actually already have an audition set up.”

“Oh?”

He sat up. “Yeah, but it’s in a few weeks. And it’s for a workshop of a new musical. If I get in, and they like me enough, I could stay with the project through to Broadway–– _if_ it makes it to Broadway, at least.”

“And that’d be _at least_ a year, maybe two.” Rey did the math in her head. “Workshops don’t pay much, though. But if you get it, you’d definitely have reason to stay. So I hope you get it.”

“Well, I’ll be okay for a few months because of the _Storm_ tour,” he explained. “Then I’ll have to find a part-time thing, at least until the workshop is through and they pay us more.”

“I’ll help,” Rey offered. “You probably don’t want to work at the shop but I can put in a good word for you at the cafe.”

Finn smiled at her. “I appreciate that. And you know what? I think you should audition for this workshop, too.”

She snorted. “I doubt they’d take me. My resume is too light. Don’t they need more experienced actors for shows like this? New ones trying to get their feet off the ground?”

“It’s a Poe Dameron musical.”

Rey gasped. “He’s writing _another_ one?”

Finn nodded. “And he’s got Armitage Hux directing again. You know Hux loves young talent and newcomers––I’m sure they’ll cast you.”

“What’s it about?”

“Get this,” he started, sitting up and lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s about Padmé Amidala.”

“ _Senator_ Padmé Amidala?”

“Is there another?” Finn responded. “It’s based on some biographical book about her and her secret husband.”

Rey chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, considering. “You know––”

“Yes, I know your about family connection.” Finn took her hand, squeezing it; she squeezed back once. “I doubt they’ll have a problem with it. They won’t even find out if you don’t tell them. And your dad wanted you to chase your dreams––so why not? He would have wanted you to go for it.”

“Could I even _get_ an audition?” Rey asked hesitantly. “It’s hard enough without an agent, but for something like this that would attract a lot of attention––”

“I kind of…” he hesitated, took a breath, and continued. “I already submitted your resume. We both have auditions.”

Rey’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? You did that for me?”

“Yes,” he said, more confident now that Rey was seemingly not opposed to the idea. “So...want to start picking out our audition songs?”

* * *

Hux finished his third coffee of the day with a twinge of regret, handing the cup off to his PA to throw out as he looked over his notes from this morning.

“You...don’t need another coffee, do you?” Mitaka asked hesitantly.

“No,” Hux said. He eyed Ren, a few seats to his left. “Not yet, at least.”

Mitaka swallowed and backed off, scampering away to the corner the PAs had claimed as theirs.

“All right,” Amilyn Holdo said as she stood up. She clapped twice, halting all conversation and bringing the room’s attention to her. “Lunch break over––shall we get started? I know we’re all tired after days of auditions, but this is the last stretch. After this we can get down to actually putting together the show.”

When Poe had first mentioned Holdo as a producer, Hux had had his doubts. He’d never worked with her and, though she’d been around for a while, she hadn’t produced any big-name musicals: most of her past projects had spent a long time off-Broadway or had had short Broadway runs. But Hux had agreed to Poe’s suggestion––he’d gotten his start on a whim from Rae, after all, so he was always supportive of people who showed talent, even if they had light resumes. The fact that Holdo came with a vast network of connections had helped sway his opinion, too.

All doubts evaporated once they’d started having production meetings: him, Poe, Phasma, Holdo, and Ren. Amilyn had a firm grip and an ever-positive attitude that had managed to calm even Ren at times. A skill which had been sorely needed throughout their audition days.

“Hopefully we’ll find our Padmé,” Ren commented.

Hux rolled his eyes and propped his head against his fist, his elbow resting on the table. Ren had been doing an excellent job of riling up even _Poe_ over the past week.

“Well, Rose _is_ coming in this afternoon,” Poe replied, just a touch icily. “Which is ridiculous, because she _should already be_ our Padmé. Since she, you know, was so perfect when we did the demos.”

Ren’s latest nit-picking had been about casting Padmé: though Poe was adamant Rose was perfect for the role, Ren insisted there was someone out there far more suited for it. He was _obsessed_ with the casting having to be _‘perfect’_ ––Hux wasn’t sure why, and the obsessive degree to which Ren waxed poetic about Padmé and Anakin baffled him. It wasn’t as if he was related to them.

Hux, on the other hand, had for once not fought Ren on this issue, which had somewhat upset Poe. Hux loved Rose and thought she was immensely talented, but if someone else truly impressed him he wasn’t above casting another actor. So far, though, no one had and Hux still leaned heavily towards Rose.

Holdo cut Ren off before he could respond to Poe’s remark. “Jess, are you ready?”

Jessika looked up from behind the piano and flashed a thumbs up. “I’m good, ready to start when you are.”

Holdo gestured at her PA, D’Acy, who nodded back and exited the room to bring in the next actor.

Phasma, on his left, leaned over to Hux and whispered in his ear: “I think this is a record for you and Ren not bickering.”

“That’s only because he’s a few seats further down today,” Hux bit back.

Phasma hummed. “It won’t last long.”

“I’m perfectly capable of being civil,” Hux insisted. “He’s the one always picking fights.”

It was, in Hux’s opinion, entirely true: Hux had tried to be civil that first day in Poe’s apartment, but Ren was so hypercritical of Hux’s every move that it was difficult not to lose his temper around him. It had caught him off guard to have their _encounter_ in London brushed under the rug, but Hux had assumed at the time that it came from wanting to keep their work relationship professional. With all this fighting, it was anything but.

And of absolutely no help was the fact that Hux still found Ren hopelessly attractive, and his writing incredibly complex and moving. Hux had gone to Poe’s apartment excited to meet one of his favourite authors again; he’d left disappointed that Ren hadn’t even let him compliment _Lost Royalty_.

“I bet,” Phasma went on, “he can rile you up at least once today.”

“Dinner is on you, tonight, because I am in a good mood and I refuse to be provoked by Ren today.”

“We’ll see,” she said ominously, turning away as D’Acy returned with the next audition.

“Hi,” the man greeted them. “I’m Finn, I’ll be singing _‘You’ll Be Back’_ from _Hamilton_.”

_Interesting choice,_ Hux thought, looking him over as he handed Jess his sheet music. D’Acy passed copies of his resume down the panel: plenty of dance experience, but not much musical theater or vocal experience. Still, Hux noted that the shows on his resume were impressive for someone as young as he looked.

“When you’re ready,” Hux instructed him.

He nodded; Jess counted in and began playing.

He began shakily, his lack of vocal experience showing; Hux worried Phasma or Ren might interrupt him and send him out as they’d done to a few today already. But by the first refrain he’d settled into character and Hux couldn’t help feel smug: his initial judgement of impressed seemed to be correct. The man even nailed all the falsettos and insane, villainous quality of King George III in the song.

“Thank you,” Holdo said when he finished.

Hux watched the man collect his sheet music from Jessika and glanced down at his resume again. _Finn,_ Hux read to himself. He felt an elbow lightly tap his right side and looked over at Poe.

“Keep an eye on that one,” Poe whispered as he leaned in, voice low enough that only Hux could hear him. “He’s talented. We need him for the ensemble definitely but he’s got the potential for something more.”

Hux nodded silently and noted down Poe’s thought––he wasn’t wrong, Hux _did_ think this Finn was talented. And Poe had a knack for spotting stars in the making: if Poe said someone was going to go far, a Tony was practically guaranteed in their future.

“Thank you,” Hux called out to Finn as he left the room. As soon as the door shut behind him, Hux wrote down his assigned number and announced to the room: “FN-2187.”

“You’re _still_ numbering every person who walks through that door?” Ren drawled. Hux glanced up to find him looking at Hux with an annoyed look.

“He has a system,” Poe explained before Hux could respond.

“A system?” he repeated.

Hux turned back to his notes in an attempt to hide the twitch of his nose. “Yes, it helps me remember the performer.”

Ren snorted. “A number is easier to remember than a name?”

“He has a system and it works for him, Kylo,” Poe interjected again. “Just let it be.”

“But seriously––”

Holdo sighed loudly. “Please don’t start this again, you two haven’t argued all day; let’s not lose our winning streak yet.”

“You’re right, Amilyn.” Hux nodded at her in thanks. “Shall we bring in the next performer?”

“No, no,” Ren insisted. “How is a _number_ easier to remember than a name?”

“Because I live in numbers, _Kylo,”_ Hux snapped, unable to stop himself. “Line numbers, scene numbers, dance sequences, musical notes, lighting queues, _actor_ queues; everything is numbered and that’s how I memorise things. Once _hundreds_ of auditions are narrowed down to a cast of twenty to thirty, _then_ yes, I’ll go by names but until then: I use my system. It works for me, so I would _appreciate_ no further comment on it.”

Ren stared at him for a moment, the rest of the room in awkward silence; then, he shook his head and noted something down on his copy of Finn’s resume.

“You’re such a fucking nerd.”

Poe sighed; Holdo looked like she regretted agreeing to produce _Queen_ at all; their PAs froze, eyebrows shooting up towards their hairlines.

Hux just scoffed. “I’d assume a Pulitzer Prize winning _writer_ would have a far more intelligent insult than that, but you seem to have proved me wrong.” Instead of waiting for a response, Hux gestured at Mitaka and D’Acy. “Bring in the next performer, please. And Mitaka, another coffee. Wait––make that a black tea. Thank you.”

Ren sat up, leaning forwards to put himself into Hux’s line of sight, and opened his mouth to say something, but Holdo held up a hand in warning. Ren narrowed his eyes at her but ultimately appeared to decide it wasn’t worth the effort. He closed his mouth and leaned back in his chair, waiting for D’Acy to return.

Phasma side-eyed Hux with a smirk; he rolled his eyes her and gave her a small nod. Dinner was on him, then.

D’Acy returned with the next actor before the silence could become too awkward.

“Hello,” she greeted a bit awkwardly. “My name is Rey. I’ll be singing _‘Journey to the Past’_ from _Anastasia._ ”

Hux accepted the copy of her resume: it was... _light._ A newcomer, then. Hux settled into his seat, intrigued.

“When––”

“Rey Antilles?” Ren interrupted. “Any relation to Captain Wedge Antilles of USAF Red Squadron?”

The woman looked taken aback. “Um, yes; he was my father.”

“Huh. My father served with him. Small world.”

Ren seemed to have no intention to continue the conversation, leaving the woman awkwardly standing there to await instructions. Hux resisted the urge to roll his eyes again at Ren’s impropriety.

“Whenever you’re comfortable,” Hux said, trying to end her misery, “please start.”

* * *

Finn shook his leg nervously as he waited for Rey to finish her audition. He’d taken the furthest seat down the hallway, hoping not to distract the other actors awaiting their turn, but two people had already glanced at his leg annoyed––he’d stopped both times, only to distractedly start again.

His own audition had been rough at first, but he’d felt good by the end of the song. Armitage Hux seemed impressed; so had the conductor on Hux’s left. Finn hadn’t had the courage to more than glance at Poe Dameron––he’d been a fan of his work for so long that it would have just made him nervous. He just hoped he’d managed to impress Poe, too.

“Finn?” a voice called softly.

He looked up at its source. “Rose!” He stood and held his hand out to shake hers. “How are you?”

“I’m good!” she said. She was smiling but Finn realised it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “And you? I think the last time I saw you, you were on your way to audition for a tour?”

“Right,” he confirmed. “It was _Kinky Boots,_ and I _did_ end up getting it.”

“Well I hope it went well!”

“It did, thanks!” He gestured vaguely behind him, in the direction of the audition room. “I’m back now, obviously; auditioning just never gets easier, does it?”

Rose chuckled lightly. “No. But I worked with Poe Dameron on the demos and I think _Queen_ is definitely going to be worth it––some of the songs are incredible.”

Finn tilted his head. “You recorded the demos? And they’re making you audition?”

“It’s no big deal,” Rose said dismissively. Her eyes said something else. “The author of the book is writing the script, he just wanted to keep their options open. I don’t blame him.”

“I see,” Finn said. Though if he were in her shoes, he would be fairly upset to have recorded demos and not immediately make the shortlist for the cast. But he didn’t know Rose well enough to press, so he changed the subject. “How do you know Poe Dameron?”

“He went to school with my sister,” Rose answered, her smile visibly brightening. “Though Paige was a harp player, and Poe went into composing. I’ve known him since then.”

“Wow. That’s a long time! Are Poe and your sister still friends?”

Rose’s expression immediately dropped.

“I’m sorry,” Finn backtracked. “Have I said something wrong?”

Rose shook her head. “No, it’s––you didn’t know, it’s fine.” She cleared her throat and blinked rapidly for a minute, composing herself. “My sister was in an accident almost three years ago. Wasn’t wearing her helmet that day.”

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean––”

“No,” Rose interrupted and smiled at him again. “Like I said, you didn’t know. It’s fine.” She pointed up the hall. “I’m just going to start getting ready for my audition, but maybe this time we’ll finally be in a show together?”

“Yeah!” Finn tried his best to sound reassuring. “Definitely! Break a leg in there, I’m sure they already love you.”

“Thanks,” she said.

She waved and started down the hallway, which Rey had just appeared in, too. As they skirted around each other in the narrow hall, Rey politely smiled at Rose.

“How’d it go?” Finn asked, as anxious for Rey as he was for his own audition.

“Fine,” she dismissed, obviously not wanting to talk about it. “Who was that you were talking to?”

“Oh, that’s Rose. We used to bump into each other at auditions all the time, and as the only friendly faces at most of our auditions we used to make smalltalk while we waited. Helped with the nerves.”

“Ah,” Rey said, glancing down the hall. She chewed on her lip, watching Rose read over her sheet music at the end of the hallway.

Finn recognised that look.

“I’ll introduce you another time,” he said, mock-exasperated but mostly teasing. “Let her focus on her audition now––and I want you to tell me how _yours_ went.”

Rey whipped her head back towards him, her eyes bright but dampening as soon as Finn brought up her audition.

“Do I have to?”

“Yes, peanut, you do,” he insisted. “Over coffee, though.”

* * *

“All right, I’ve got us a star.” Holdo handed off her phone to D’Acy and sat back down at the table. “Ransolm Casterfo heard the demo for Anakin and is interested.”

Kylo nodded and glanced over at Hux, watching for his reaction. He wasn’t disappointed: Hux said nothing, but his upper lip visibly twitched as he wrote down Casterfo’s name in his notes. Not that Kylo was particularly fond of this casting choice, either, but no one at the auditions had felt like an Anakin to him; he knew that Casterfo had pipes, so he’d agreed to Holdo’s suggestion to have a celebrity join their workshop––the fact that Hux disapproved was just the icing on top. Hux was all about fresh talent and new, untested actors: either he somehow felt solely responsible for cultivating the next generation of Broadway stars, or it was his payback to the universe for giving him his start in a similar way. Whatever it was, Kylo knew that connections and big names were far more attractive to investors, so they needed celebrities; he did _not_ want _his_ musical to fail.

“Great,” Kylo said. He smiled at Holdo. “Thanks for arranging that, Amilyn.”

Holdo gave him a look: she saw right through him and had no sympathy for his petty competition with Hux, but Kylo didn’t really care. Hux thought he was better than Kylo, and Kylo was doing an excellent job of proving him wrong so far.

“What about Palpatine?” Hux asked instead, choosing not to comment on Casterfo’s casting.

“He’s not so important right now,” Poe said. “I don’t have any of his songs written and Kylo only has one scene with him in it––we can worry about him later when we’ve got the rest of the show rehearsing.”

“We could bring in another star for Palpatine,” Kylo suggested. He smirked in Hux’s direction; Hux didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking at him.

“Like Poe said,” Holdo interjected, “we can talk about that later. Now the big question is: who is our Padmé?”

Poe threw his pen on the table. “You all know my opinion.”

Hux jumped and looked up at Poe, startled by the pen. Kylo snickered.

“I think Rose is an excellent Padmé,” Phasma commented. She’d seemed uninterested in the discussion till now, having stopped making notes on her score.

“And I agree,” Holdo said.

Kylo frowned. “I think that girl Rey Antilles is perfect for Padmé. She’s got drive that just...seems very much like her.”

Poe sighed. “And Rose _doesn’t?_ It’s called _acting,_ Kylo.”

“They’re both talented,” Kylo bit back. “I just think Rey is a better choice for Padmé.”

“I’m not saying she’s not talented, I’m just saying Rose did so much for us with the demos, and she was _so_ good––we _have_ a Padmé, why not cast Rey Antilles as someone else?”

“Ren,” Hux interrupted. “You said yourself that you prefer more _experienced_ actors––now I’ll be the first to admit RA-1574 was incredible, but her resume was quite light.”

Kylo glowered at Hux; how _dare_ he use his own words against him.

Holdo cleared her throat. “We haven’t heard your opinion on Rose, either, Hux.”

Hux pursed his lips. “RT-4297 is talented and a pleasure to work with. But so is RA-1574.”

He didn’t elaborate; the rest of the room stared at Hux while _he_ stared at his notes. Kylo held his breath––was Hux about to _agree_ with him?

“And?” Phasma pressed after a minute.

Hux looked up and met Kylo’s gaze. “I think we should have them both do callbacks.”


	3. Intermission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> intermission [noun]: a short interval between the acts of a play or parts of a public performance, allowing the performers and audience a rest; a period during which action temporarily ceases.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the amazing incredible wonderful johanna made a [moodboard](http://longstoryshortikilledhim.tumblr.com/post/172924205511) for this fic and made me cry, please go give it some love!!
> 
> also: some mild chapter warnings include mention of character death. rating has changed just to be safe re: non-explicit description of sexual acts. again, this is un-beta'd so all mistakes are mine!

Rose picked at her nails for the nth time in ten minutes, her nail polish about halfway chipped off by now. No one else was in the hallway; she sat alone a few chairs down from the studio door, trying to remember her breathing––she wasn’t usually so nervous for auditions, but callbacks were another story entirely.

Since she’d gotten the call yesterday, Rose had been going back and forth between being angry––the demos were amazing, she shouldn’t _have_ to audition, damn it!––and being relieved that she’d been asked back at all, since there were no doubt _many_ talented actors at the auditions last week. The demos and all the sessions at Poe’s apartment had been the closest she’d ever gotten to a lead role and even with that little taste, Rose had had her heart set on Padmé being her big breakthrough; it made her all the more nervous to be sitting here, anxiously awaiting who else would be showing up for callbacks.

The door to the studio opened and her heart skipped a beat.

“Good morning,” Hux greeted her. He was in his usual day-to-day wear (that Rose thought was far too classy to be casual, but who was she to question it?) of a burgundy sweater, button-up shirt, and pants ironed to perfection, but he had a gym bag slung over his shoulder. He walked down the opposite end of the hallway, towards the bathrooms, before Rose could return his greeting.

She stared blankly after him. The return of his gym bag meant one thing: they’d be dancing today.

The elevator dinged and Kylo walked out, giving her a half-smile and a wave before making his way to the studio. Rose smiled back, but was unsure how genuine his greeting was since his damn polarized sunglasses always hid his eyes.

Rose had just calmed her breathing again when the elevator returned. This time, a woman emerged; she seemed familiar, yet Rose couldn’t quite place her.

She sat a few chairs down, facing Rose on the other side of the hall, and smiled at her. “Hi.”

Rose smiled back but quickly looked away, her face heating up. She always did this: her standards with men were very high but all it took was one smile and a greeting from a pretty girl and she was a blushing mess. Not that her nerves helped, either.

That’s right––the nerves. Rose could just blame the nerves.

“I’m Rey,” the woman, apparently Rey, said. When Rose looked up again she’d moved to the seat opposite her.

“Rose,” she responded, nodding and smiling at Rey. “Have we met?”

“No, actually,” Rey said. “But I was at the auditions last week, I’m Finn’s friend? I would have introduced myself then but I didn’t want to bother you before your audition.”

Right. _That’s_ why she looked so familiar.

But that also meant Rey was here for callbacks––that Rey was also vying for the role of Padmé.

“Oh,” Rose said instead. “Well, any friend of Finn’s is a friend of mine. Nice to officially meet you.”

She shouldn’t be talking to Rey. They were technically competing.

“Nice to meet you, too,” Rey replied, grinning brightly.

Damn it. Rose was definitely blushing and it definitely wasn’t _only_ the nerves.

“Good morning, you two,” Hux interrupted them, emerging from the bathroom in his dance clothes and jazz shoes. “Should be a few more minutes––we’ll start when Poe gets here.”

They both nodded at him as they watched him re-enter the studio.

“He’s got his jazz shoes on,” Rose explained. “We’ll be dancing today.”

Rey glanced at the studio door, as if she could see him through it. “He doesn’t wear character shoes for dancing?”

“You’d think, but he hates them. Claims they’re uncomfortable and aggravate an injury he had when he was younger.”

“But that just means––”

“––he’s not wearing the right shoe.” They said in unison; they exchanged a look before bursting into laughter.

“Hux is just...Hux.” Rose shrugged. “He likes things a certain way; he’s got a system for everything. You learn that pretty fast.”

“So you’ve worked with Armitage Hux before?” Rey asked. “You’ve been on Broadway?”

“I’ve just worked with Hux the once on _Resistance_ , and I’ve been in the ensemble another time,” Rose answered. “More if you count off-Broadway.”

Rey smiled, her eyes widening in genuine curiosity. “You were in _Resistance?_ So you know Poe Dameron?”

Rose hesitated, but nodded; she hated showing off, but Rey just seemed so...nice, so eager. It was hard to resist.

“I do know Poe,” Rose went on. “He’s actually an old family friend. My sister went to school with him.”

“That’s amazing,” Rey commented. It might have sounded sarcastic coming from someone else but Rey felt sincere.

They were interrupted by another _ding_ of the elevator, out of which Poe emerged.

“Good morning,” he said. “You both can come on in.”

Poe left the door of the studio open behind him when he entered, an invitation.

Rey met Rose’s gaze. “You’ll have to tell me more about yourself later, because I think you’ve got an interesting story to tell.” She smiled. “But for now...I guess we’re in for a long day?”

Rose smiled back at her, and they both stood. “Let’s hope we both break a leg.”

They chuckled briefly before following in Poe’s footsteps.

* * *

Kylo kicked the door of the studio open, not bothering to even control the volume of his steps. Mitaka, Hux’s PA, was startled by the loud noise and dropped the papers he’d been carrying. Kylo smirked as he put down his bag and shrugged out of his jacket, removing his sunglasses and tossing them onto the table. He sat down in his usual seat and rifled through his bag to retrieve his notebook, flicking through some script notes he’d been meaning to look at last night before he’d passed out while half-watching _Westworld_.

It was only after a few minutes that he noticed he, Jessika the pianist, and Mitaka were the only ones in the room.

“Where is everyone?” he asked.

_Hux_ was late? This was brilliant.

Jessika and Mitaka exchanged glances.

“Is Hux late?”

The studio door opened and shut at a more appropriate volume.

“I’m perfectly on time, Ren, thank you very much. I was just changing.”

Kylo turned to look at him, opening his mouth to retort, but stopped short when he saw Hux.

_Changing_ made sense, now: instead of his usual smart-casual look, Hux was in a fitted black tank, soft leather shoes, and grey sweatpants that were definitely a few sizes too small because they fit him more like leggings. It was, frankly, obscene for sweatpants to look that good on a human being.

Kylo watched Hux hand his PA the gym bag he’d been carrying and cross the room towards Jessika to have a brief, quiet exchange with her.

“You realise you’re not actually needed until this evening, right?” Hux asked, turning away from Jess.

“What?”

Poe walked in then and also stopped short at the sight of Kylo in the studio. “Kylo, what are you doing here?”

Hux turned to Poe. “I was just about to explain how we’re teaching RT-4297 and RA-1574 the song and the choreography today, and he doesn’t need to be here until this evening when they’re ready.”

Poe looked between Kylo and Hux, then nodded. “Yeah,” he said lamely. “What Hux said.”

Kylo scowled at both of them. “So I got up early today for nothing?”

“Not nothing.” Hux shrugged. “You _do_ have a script to work on. You should use your extra time for that.”

If Rey and Rose hadn’t appeared in the studio’s doorway at that precise moment, Kylo swore he would have come up with some clever retort.

“Sorry,” Rose said when she saw Kylo’s expression. “Poe said we could come in?”

“Yes,” Hux confirmed. “As you know, you’re both being called back for Padmé, so today we’ll go through some choreography for one of the songs. It’s one you don’t know yet, Rose, so this is new material for both of you. Rose, you’ll be with me this morning on the choreography; Rey, go with Poe to the studio next door to learn the song. We’ll swap after lunch.”

The women nodded and Rey followed Poe out of the room, while Hux pointed Rose to a bench for her to set her bag down and change into her character shoes. Kylo stood, glued to the spot, intrigued; he’d never seen Hux dance. In theory, he knew Hux _could––_ he choreographed the musicals he directed, he _had_ to be able to. But Kylo had never actually seen it. He was…interested in watching.

Again, Hux’s blinders seemed to be on: all his attention was on Rose and Jessika, explaining the context of the song and the basic outline of what they’d be doing. Ignored on the other side of the room, Kylo had an ample view of Hux’s ass––especially through those tight sweatpants.

Kylo was definitely _not_ staring. He _wasn’t_.

“Anyway,” Hux was saying to Rose, “you’ll have to learn the melody from Jessika’s playing and later on from Poe, because you know I can’t sing, so I’ll just count––”

“Wait,” Kylo interrupted. They all turned around to look at him, and for a brief second Kylo’s view was of Hux’s crotch before he moved his gaze up. “You can’t _sing?”_

“You’re still here?” Hux asked, bored.

“And you can’t _sing?_ How can you direct _musicals_ if you can’t _sing?”_

Hux watched him for a beat, determining if his question was serious. “Why should I need to? I can dance, I can direct, I can read music, and I’ve got a whole cast to do the singing for me.”

“You can direct a musical without singing,” Rose chimed in, coming to Hux’s defence. Maybe she was also tired of Kylo’s nit-picking. “He does a good job of it, too––I would know.”

Kylo frowned. Maybe Rose _did_ have a little Padmé in her; he should be nicer to her.

“Now if you’re quite done,” Hux continued, “would you let me teach Rose in peace? You’ll see it later today, since you’re so curious.”

“It’s not her I’m trying to watch dance right _now,”_ Kylo muttered to himself.

“What was that?”

Kylo gathered his notes and picked up his bag and jacket. “Nothing!”

Hux narrowed his eyes at him but very quickly gave up; he shrugged at Rose and they both turned back towards Jessika.

“I guess I’ll just go to Starbucks and write or something,” Kylo lamented. No one was listening to him.

He made sure to slam the door on his way out, too.

* * *

Rey tapped her index finger rhythmically against her thigh, idly drumming out the melody of the song she’d spent all day learning and had just performed. Rose was right: the music Poe had written for _Queen_ was so good, and catchy––Rey would probably be singing it to herself for the next few days. Even the dance routine Hux had choreographed seamlessly fit in with the music, and though she could tell it was put together in a rush, with some fine-tuning it would practically be performance ready. She felt her own callback performance had gone well; she’d sung her heart out and danced her arse off, and even _Hux_ had seemed satisfied––eliciting any emotion from him was rare, as she’d learned over the course of the day.

She stood at the end of the hall near the bathrooms, half hidden around the corner and in the shadow cast by the sunset outside. In hindsight, it was probably not the best place to wait––the fact that she was waiting for Rose at all was a bit odd, they’d only just met this morning––but she’d committed and she was determined to wait it out. She’d heard applause coming from the studio which meant Rose was finished and just had to pack up her things before she would emerge.

_Maybe it was a bad idea?_ Rey began to second guess herself. She and Rose were technically competing for Padmé; was it strange that she wanted to ask her out for drinks? And out of genuine interest, not because she wanted to ‘spy on the enemy?’

“Fuck,” Rey whispered to herself.

She was overthinking it again. There was absolutely nothing wrong with asking out a cute girl, she told herself, regardless of whether or not they were vying for the same role. _And,_ Rey added, _if we both get cast, maybe one of us as something else, we’ll have to build camaraderie among the cast anyway. Better to start on a good note._

The studio door opened and Rose emerged; Rey watched her shut the door behind her, sigh, and sit down to change out of her character shoes.

Rey counted to ten. It _was_ creepy to just suddenly emerge from the bathroom, but fuck it; she’d been waiting this long.

“Hey,” she called out, walking towards Rose. “How’d it go?”

Rose looked up at her, surprised. “Rey, you waited?”

Rey smiled. “Of course. Figured you could use some moral support? We’ve had a long day.”

Rose eyed her for a minute, as if confused why someone would do something like that. Rey knew the look well; it was one she used to wear constantly before she met Finn.

“I...appreciate that,” Rose said finally, before turning away to stuff her character shoes into her bag.

“Listen,” Rey started, “we’ve both had a long, tough day. Would you––do you maybe want to get drinks and unwind? I know _I_ could use a drink; I figured you might, too?”

“Oh.” Rose seemed surprised by the offer. “I, um, I don’t drink?”

“Coffee is fine with me,” Rey offered. “It’s a bit late for caffeine but that’s what decaf is for!”

Rose hesitated. “I...don’t drink coffee, either.”

Ah. Rey understood. She smiled anyway. “That’s all right. I guess...I’ll see you around?”

She turned to go, making it a few steps before she felt a hand grasp her forearm.

“Wait!” Rose said. Rey turned to look at her. “How do you feel about bubble tea?”

Rey grinned. “I love it.”

Rose returned her smile and let go of her arm.

After Rose finished packing her bag and bundling up in her jacket, the two made their way downstairs and out of the building together. Rose lead them towards Times Square to catch the subway downtown. Rey walked a bit closer to her than necessary––42nd street was crowded at this time of day, so Rey was obviously keeping close because she didn’t want to make Rose yell over the noises of the street. Obviously.

The walk and then the subway ride was filled with conversation: Rey constantly quizzed Rose on her Broadway experience, enthralled by the anecdotes Rose had to tell, and Rose was also more than happy to fill any awkward pauses, mostly by asking Rey about herself. By the time they were seated in a random shop in Chinatown, sipping jasmine bubble tea, Rey felt like she already knew Rose’s entire resume.

“So you’re from New York? Your whole family is here?” Rey slurped up the last bead of boba from her drink, disappointed she had none left; her tea was still a good third full.

“Well...it’s just me. My parents passed long ago and...since my sister died, I’ve been on my own.” Rose looked down, suddenly interested in swirling the boba around in her cup. “But yeah, I’m from here. Been in the city my whole life.”

Rey frowned. She wanted to reach over and squeeze Rose’s hand to comfort her, but she wasn’t sure if she’d appreciate the gesture so Rey withheld.

“I’m sorry.”

Rose glanced back up and smiled sadly. “It’s fine. It’s been almost three years since Paige’s accident––I’m still...learning.”

Rey smiled back in sympathy. “I know what you mean––I’ve been on my own for a long time, too. Paige was...older?”

“Paige was seven years older than me; she was eighteen when our parents passed. I don’t know how she managed to pretty much raise me at the same time as going to music school, but she did. She was pretty much Wonder Woman, honestly.”

Rey rested her chin in her palm, her elbow propped up against the table. “Sounds like it. You must have been very close.”

“We were,” Rose said, sadly. “That’s how she knew Poe, actually; music school. So I’ve known Poe for a really long time.”

“Really?” Rey grinned. “That’s actually really cute.”

Rose ducked her head; Rey swore she was blushing, but the dull overheads made it hard to tell in this light.

“What about you?” Rose asked. “You’ve got a British accent––what are you doing in New York? Come all the way here just for Broadway?”

“Kind of,” Rey started. She dropped her hand to lay flat on the table. “I’m actually American. Dad was an expat––I was born and raised in England. I moved here after he passed.”

“I’m sorry,” Rose said.

“Don’t be. It’s been a while. It _does_ get easier, I can tell you that, but I do feel it sometimes, too.”

Rose took a sip of her tea, considering. “What was your dad doing in England, anyway?”

Rey followed suit and drank from her own tea before answering. “Dad had gone through a rough breakup. He wanted a fresh start so he just...dropped everything and moved to England.”

Rose raised her eyebrows. “Wow. That...must have been a really bad breakup to send him across an ocean.”

Rey nodded, taking another sip of her tea. “It was. Dad always said if gay marriage had been legal back then, they probably would have been married, and maybe they would have tried harder to avoid a divorce. But...his partner chose his career over Dad. It was, by my father’s account, ugly. And since he was a decorated pilot, it wasn’t hard for him to get a good job offer in England; he took it and never looked back.”

She didn’t mention _who_ exactly Wedge’s ex was; it hardly seemed relevant, though she knew other actors tended to make a big deal about it. She didn’t want to bring that into this conversation now, however, so she left out that little detail.

“So...if you don’t mind my asking, how did you come about?”

Rey laughed. “You mean, was I adopted? How did my father have me?”

Rose looked mortified for a moment, but seemed encouraged by Rey’s laugh. “Well, yes. I wasn’t trying to be rude.”

“It’s fine,” Rey assured her. “Dad was very much experimenting with his sexuality when he moved; he’d only had the one relationship.” Rey shrugged. “Within a year of his moving, I was born.”

“And your mother…?”

“Complications at birth,” Rey said. Rose opened her mouth, probably to offer her sympathy, but it had been so long ago; Rey had grown such a thick skin over the years. “Don’t, you don’t need to. It was so long ago. I’m volunteering this information freely.” She smiled reassuringly at Rose. “So it was just me and Dad until I was fifteen.”

Rose frowned, that sad look still in her eyes. “Is that when he––”

Rey nodded. “Routine training flight. Plane hadn’t passed its inspection. So after that I went into the system, finished secondary school, worked for a few years, then took all mine and my dad’s savings and moved here.”

“On your own?”

“Dad did it. Why couldn’t I?”

Rose stared at her for a long moment, admiration in her eyes. “You’re so brave, Rey. I couldn’t have done anything without Paige. I’m barely functioning now, as it is.”

“No,” Rey said. She lightly smacked Rose’s bicep. “Don’t say that! You’re amazing––you’ve been on Broadway, and you’ll be there again. I’m sure your sister would be so proud of you.”

“But you’ve been on your own since _fifteen,”_ Rose continued, blinking rapidly. “You moved to an entirely new country on your own, and you’ve been living on your own here––how...how do you do it?”

“I’m not alone,” Rey answered, a warm smile spreading across her face. “At least not anymore. I found Finn.”

“Right. And you and Finn are…?”

Rey laughed, shaking her head. “Not like that. Men aren’t exactly my type. Finn is my family––we’re all each other has, really. What do they call it? Found family?”

“That’s right.” Rose nodded. “But I’m not exactly the best people person. Ironic, I know, since I’m an aspiring actor and all. This might sound cliché but I _am_ in this for the art, less so for the people.”

“I don’t think that’s cliché at all, I think that’s admirable. And I also think you’re wrong––you’re holding up your end of the conversation very well.”

This time Rey could _definitely_ tell Rose was blushing.

“Shit,” Rey said, glancing at her phone. “It’s late.”

“Yeah,” Rose agreed.

“Not that I’m _not_ enjoying being here with you,” Rey explained, “but I do have an opening shift tomorrow; five A.M.”

“Sounds dreadful.”

“It is,” Rey said. “But it pays the bills.”

“Yeah, because Broadway doesn’t.”

Rey met Rose’s gaze and the two laughed together.

“What are you taking?” Rose asked. “I gotta take the 1 uptown.”

“I’ve got to get on the Q so I’m walking over to Broadway, but...can I walk you to the subway?” Rey offered.

Rose blushed again. “I’d like that.”

This walk was silent––neither seemed to be able to fill the lull in conversation, but it didn’t matter. Rey was comfortable enough, walking next to Rose as their shoulders brushed occasionally. When they got to Rose’s stop, Rey pulled out her phone and offered it to Rose.

“You don’t have to,” she said, “but...you could text yourself from my phone so that we have each other’s number?”

Rose nodded and took her phone, rapidly typing off a text and sending it to herself. She beamed at Rey as she handed the phone back.

“Thanks for this,” Rose said. “I had fun. And I’d forgotten how much I love bubble tea.”

Rey laughed. “Well, we can do it again sometime if you want?”

“Yes,” she agreed. “Definitely.”

“Well, bye, then,” Rey said, awkwardly.

Rose waved and turned to descend the stairs, before changing her mind and facing Rey again. Rey was about to question why when Rose leaned in quickly, kissed her chastely on the lips, and turned once again, taking the steps two at a time when the sound of an approaching train filled the stairwell: Rey would have found the image amusing if she wasn’t so stunned.

She stood there for a full minute, hearing the train stop and leave before she snapped out of her surprise.

Rey grinned.

* * *

“Have you got anything to drink other than beer or Diet Coke?” Hux called from the kitchen.

Kylo groaned. “There’s something called the tap––it dispenses this amazing drink called water.”

He could practically _feel_ Hux glaring at him from the kitchen doorway, but Kylo ignored him to focus on his laptop screen instead. It was frustrating enough that Poe saw fit to punish them this way; Kylo wasn’t about to start playing _host_ for Hux.

Apparently Poe’s frustration with the two of them had escalated enough to kick them out of the studio entirely. While they were discussing the callbacks, Kylo had simply corrected Hux’s grammar _once_ before Poe lost it and told Kylo to _“go home and so help me God work on that fucking script we will reconvene tomorrow to discuss this casting decision.”_ Kylo hadn’t even been halfway home when Poe texted him, saying Hux was on his way to his apartment––Poe was tired of playing messenger for all of Hux’s suggestions on the script, so he’d sent Hux over to help Kylo work.

Poe’s exact words were: _‘maybe I’ll be lucky enough that you two will murder each other, or I’ll be luckier that you’ll make some actual progress.’_

Kylo heard Hux rummaging around in his kitchen again, followed by an _‘a-ha!’_ and the sound of his only-used-once electric kettle being filled. Hux had found his secret stash of tea, then––the box he’d bought in London on his last trip there for no reason whatsoever (Kylo didn’t even _drink_ tea) and had never even opened.

“I can’t believe you have Fortnum & Mason––that’s my _favourite_ tea,” Hux commented.

Now he remembered: Kylo had seen the shop name in one of those profile interviews Hux had done and it’d somehow stuck. He cursed under his breath at past him for making such a stupid choice of tea. Maybe he should throw that out and buy Lipton to disappoint Hux the next time he came over.

Wait; next time?

“Now,” Hux said, emerging from Kylo’s kitchen. He had a random mug filled with steaming water in his hand, a tea bag bobbing on the water’s surface. “I think we should start by discussing the order of the songs––it will help you flesh out the rest of the script if you know what songs are happening where.”

“Whoa, whoa,” Kylo complained. “Business already? I’ve been home barely an hour, let me relax for a bit and catch up on some news.”

Hux stared at him for a moment, unamused. He crossed the living room, pointedly looked at Kylo’s screen, and sighed dramatically as he sat down on the couch.

“Please, do go on; I _desperately_ want to know what deep truth about you your buffet food choices will reveal.” He huffed. “It’s not like I have anything better to do tonight.”

Kylo closed that tab. “What, got a date or something?”

Not that he wanted to know. He wasn’t curious or jealous. Nope.

“No, but my cat is far better company than you are.”

Right: the fat, orange ball of fluff Kylo had seen pictures of online. “Millicent?”

Hux eyed him suspiciously. “Yes. How did you––do you follow me on Instagram?”

“Pfft, of course not,” Kylo said, looking back at his laptop and actually opening a news site. “I overheard Phasma or something…”

“Mhmm. Well, if you must know, the only photos I actually post myself are of Millicent. Mitaka posts everything else. Or Opan, since he’s the one who gets the sponsors.”

Kylo almost felt cheated: the behind-the-scenes photos of Hux’s productions had seemed really cool. Fucking _Mitaka_ was responsible for them?

Hux lifted an eyebrow at him, and Kylo was almost too distracted to realise Hux was _smirking_ at him.

“Shall we get to work?”

For once, Kylo relented. He grabbed a beer for himself and settled next to Hux on the couch, placing his laptop between them on the coffee table and pulling up the outline of _Queen_ he had so far. He didn’t even laugh when Hux pulled out a mini dry-erase board and a set of coloured markers from his messenger bag––instead he watched, almost transfixed, as Hux diligently copied out only the songs from Kylo’s outline and _colour-coded_ them. Blue for songs they had placed already, red for songs they had yet to place, a green underline for those he wanted to discuss or re-order, and extra black and purple pens for some purpose Kylo had yet to glean.

Miraculously, they got through most of act one without incident. The black marker, it turned out, was for scene numbers: as they debated the song order, Kylo would tell Hux what scenes he’d planned to lead up to and after the song. If Hux agreed with Kylo’s placement, it went down on the board in black. If he didn’t, Kylo would read him the scene and they would discuss it–– _civilly,_ of course––until they either agreed, which was written in black, or they decided to get another opinion, which would be written in purple.

By the time they’d finished act one, Kylo was three beers in and either tired or tipsy enough to start thinking Hux was actually _pleasant_ company.

“I’m telling you,” Hux argued, “ _Requiem for Naboo_ should be our opening number. It will shine much more there than as the penultimate scene.”

Kylo shook his head. “It should be chronological; Poe will come up with a good opening number. I like _Requiem_ where it is. And aren’t musicals supposed to open with big, high energy, ensemble numbers? _Requiem_ is a solo. It’s not _big_ enough for an opener.”

“Poe can always rework the last chorus,” Hux said. “And _most_ musicals open with ensemble pieces, yes. But wouldn’t it be a testament to Padmé Amidala’s legacy that the show opens with a spotlight on _only her?_ Just, consider, for a moment,” Hux insisted. “Opening with _Requiem_ sets the tone for the show. Picture it: Padmé, alone, discussing her legacy. Spotlight on her. The audience knows what to expect from _Queen_ , then. But it builds: by the end of the song, the cast has joined her onstage and she’s no longer alone––she’s affected the lives of so many, and we see that: literally and metaphorically, onstage.”

It did sound like a good idea. But Kylo didn’t want to concede his point yet. “It’s not _only_ about Padmé,” Kylo complained. “It’s about Anakin, too.”

Hux sighed. “ _I’m_ not the one who named the musical _Queen,_ and therefore Padmé _is_ the titular character.” He leaned forward and grabbed the blue marker, ready to change the outline; he looked up at Kylo expectantly.

“Fine,” Kylo acquiesced. “We’ll _try_ it, but if it doesn’t work it’s going back to penultimate. I fucking hate it when you make a good argument…”

“Language,” Hux warned, without even looking up from noting down the song change on his board.

“We’re in _my_ apartment. I kind of get it at the studio, but in my _home?”_

Hux sat back on the couch, rubbing his temple as if he had a headache. He’d probably say something like _Kylo_ was his headache.

“May I remind you we’re working? We may be in your apartment, but we should remain professional since we’re _working.”_

“Professional, huh?” Kylo asked. “Is there anything professional about the two of us?”

Hux said nothing; he stared at their outline, written out in front of them.

“Since we’re in my apartment I could just kick you out,” Kylo went on instead, but the threat behind the words was only half-hearted.

“No.”

“No?”

Hux shook his head. “Our second act is still a mess, we need to finish that tonight.”

“And what if I decided that I feel like calling it quits for the night, hm?”

“Well, I’m not leaving until this is done.”

Kylo hummed. “I thought you said you’d rather spend tonight in the company of your cat? Why so reluctant to leaving now?”

Hux rolled his eyes at Kylo. “Like I said, we’re working and I want to finish this sooner rather than later. It’ll make it easier for you to finish writing the script.” He hesitated, then averted his gaze back to the board. “And you haven’t been...the most un-agreeable person tonight.”

Kylo had to press his lips together to avoid smirking.

“Shall we continue?”

“Nah,” Kylo said. He stood, moving between Hux and his coffee table to tower over him. “I feel like going to bed. It’s past midnight.”

“But––”

“Will I have to physically kick you out?” Kylo leaned in, making Hux look up at him at even more of an awkward angle.

Hux frowned. “If you’d be childish enough to do so.” He stared back at Kylo for another moment, but his expression wasn’t annoyed. It was––something else.

Then Kylo closed the gap between them, bringing their lips crashing together.

Hux didn’t push him away.

* * *

Rose groaned as she woke up, hitting her snooze button for the sixth time. She was normally good about waking up on time: it was rare for her to hit snooze at all. But she’d felt so bone-deep tired lately, between all the shifts she’d picked up at the restaurant and the stress of the auditions, so today she let herself stay in bed a little late. Her shift wasn’t until tonight, anyway; there wasn’t any harm in sleeping in for once.

Her phone buzzed with a call, but she let it go to voicemail as she rolled over in bed.

She hadn’t meant to drift off to sleep again, but ten minutes later her shrill alarm rang out across her apartment, complete with a train passing outside, so with a sigh Rose gave in and finally got out of bed. She shut off her alarm, went to the bathroom, and started preparing her breakfast.

“Good morning,” she greeted Paige’s photo as she tucked into her breakfast, sat in her usual spot with her legs tucked under her as always. Paige smiled back; though the photo wore the same expression as it always did, Rose had a good feeling about it today.

Her phone vibrated again, this time with a text. Rose glanced at the screen and immediately grinned: _Rey._

Though she hadn’t seen Rey since the day of the callbacks, they’d been texting rather frequently. Rey had been polite enough not to mention the awkward kiss, and Rose was relieved––she wasn’t sure what had overcome her to do it, Rey hadn’t even made any indication of wanting that...had she? It would be too awkward to ask now, but Rose was just fine with what they had going; she hadn’t fully realised how lonely she’d been since Paige died until she had someone to fill that gap. Was this what it was like for Rey with Finn?

Then Rose read the text and almost dropped her phone.

_‘Congrats!!! Celebratory bubble tea later?? :)’_

Rose almost started hyperventilating: it was then she saw the missed call had been from her agent. It couldn’t be––could it?

Her fingers shaking, Rose pressed play on the voicemail.

“Oh my god,” she whispered as it played.

“Oh my _god!”_ she yelled, her eyes going to the framed photo of Paige.

She switched over to Messages and immediately started texting Rey back: _‘omg thank you! Yes, let’s definitely get bubble tea today!!! :D’_

* * *

Hux softly shut the front door of Ren’s apartment behind him, adjusting the strap of his gym bag on his shoulder as he walked down the hall. Ren had teased him for bringing ‘ _an overnight bag’_ this time, but he didn’t expect Hux to do a walk of shame in last night’s clothes every time they had sex, did he? Hux was an adult––he refused to be caught in a crumpled, day-old shirt and a cardigan that had spent the night on the floor. Ren could laugh all he wanted, _Hux_ was simply trying to ensure he was presentable at all times.

Besides, Ren hadn’t been laughing when Hux had been riding him at a painfully leisurely pace last night; quite the opposite, in fact.

Hux had only needed to use work as a pretense the second night they’d slept together: last night Ren had outright invited him over. Not that Hux appreciated being a ‘booty call,’ but it seemed to make them both more agreeable in the day. Plus, the sex was good––better than Hux had expected when he’d first met Ren back in London. Maybe if he’d actually gone back to Ren’s hotel room with him that night, they would have avoided the weeks of fighting. Maybe they’d have actually seen past their egos that day in Poe’s apartment and actually started their professional relationship on a good note.

Exiting Ren’s building, Hux chuckled at himself: who was he kidding? They were fighting less during the day, at work, but they still disagreed with each other on many things. There had been little hope on ever having a calm work environment between them, even before Hux had pulled Ren down onto his couch and given him a blow job the other night.

Hux caught up with his emails on his phone while on the subway home––mostly approving press releases, confirming studio bookings, and reviewing rehearsal schedules––which made his trek uptown pass far faster than it usually did. He would deny the spring in his step as he climbed the stairs of his subway station, and he was definitely not humming the tune of the Act 2 opener as he walked the few blocks to his apartment. As far as he could remember, the only thing on his calendar today was a meeting at Holdo’s office just before lunch: that meant he had the day to himself, which in turn meant time to spend with Millicent and catch up with his Netflix queue. He decided he would _not_ go to Ren’s again tonight, even if he called him: Hux should sleep at his own apartment at least once this week, after all.

Millicent mewed as he unlocked his door; no doubt she’d heard him walking down the hall. She circled his legs when he entered the apartment, so he bent down to pick her up and shut the door behind him with his foot.

“Hello, you,” he cooed at her, nuzzling his face into the soft fur at her neck. “Did you miss me?” He set her down and watched as she scampered off to her bowl, expecting to be fed.

_“I_ certainly missed you.”

Hux swiveled on his heels, startled by Phasma’s presence in his living room. He froze under her gaze like a child getting caught sneaking home past curfew.

Suddenly he remembered: they were supposed to get breakfast this morning. Fuck.

“Good morning,” Phasma said, her voice sugar-sweet. “And where have you been, pray tell? With that overnight bag?” She was sat––more like _lounging––_ on his couch, her legs crossed, a book in her lap. Probably one from Hux’s shelves.

Hux grit his teeth. There was no convincing her that _he_ of all people had been at the gym that early in the morning.

She smirked at him. “It’s all right. I forgive you, but only because it’s still early enough to get brunch. And you haven’t gotten laid in a while––I imagine he’s very good if you forgot about our plans.” She set the book down on his coffee table. “Don’t worry, I fed Millie already. So put that bag down and let’s go.”

“Right,” he said, springing into action. He went to his bedroom and emptied out his gym bag, throwing yesterday’s clothes in the laundry hamper, before he realised. “Hang on––I thought I took my spare key back from you when I got back from Sydney?” he called down the hall.

“You did,” Phasma yelled back. “I made a copy for emergencies.”

Hux rolled his eyes. Of course she had.

By the time he emerged from his room again––face freshly washed and hair properly in place––Phasma was waiting by the front door, leather jacket and sunglasses back on. They headed downstairs together, the Uber Phasma had called arriving within moments, and hopped in the back of the car. The drive was, unsurprisingly, more unpleasant than his subway commute earlier––at least he hadn’t had to deal with _traffic._ Hux practically sighed with relief when they got to Columbus Circle, happy to be off the street.

Phasma had obviously called ahead, because they were seated immediately at a table with a view of Central Park––a few blocks away from Holdo’s office, so that they could walk there for their meeting after brunch.

“Do you think we’ll finally have a full cast by the end of today?” Phasma asked after they’d ordered.

“We’ll certainly hear back from Rose’s agent today,” Hux said.

The day before yesterday, they’d finally offered the role of Padmé to Rose. Though Hux knew Rose would have accepted immediately, her agent had requested a day to look over the contract. Still, he fully expected the answer would be yes. It had taken them a long deliberation to make a decision: both Rose and Rey were immensely talented, and Hux had been impressed with how fast they’d both picked up his choreography and how well they’d performed it. Ren had put up a fight for casting Rey, but in the end even he knew that for the titular role they needed someone with stage experience. Instead, Rey had been offered a place in the ensemble.

“What about Palpatine?” Phasma pressed. “Rehearsals start next week.”

Hux took a sip of his coffee. “Don’t worry about _my_ cast, make sure _your_ troops are ready for action.”

Phasma scoffed. “My orchestra is primed and ready; I had them selected last week. We’re just finalising our rehearsal schedule so that Jessika has enough time to split between us and you. I’ll need you to look over that, too, by the way.”

“When can I expect it?”

“As soon as my bloody violin player confirms his availability on Thursdays,” she said, annoyed.

“Thanisson?”

“It’s always Thanisson.”

Hux had to smile a little as she launched into another complaint about her violinist; just _why_ she made sure to hire him for every orchestra she had to assemble was beyond Hux, since she complained about him so much. Phasma was the first conductor he’d worked with on Broadway––after relocating to New York to put an ocean between him and Brendol––and though he wasn’t the most sociable person, Phasma seemed to like him enough; probably because she could relate to him in that he’d made the same move she had. They’d been friends ever since.

“Do you reckon Kylo’s finished scene five yet? He said yesterday he would work on it last night.”

“Definitely not,” Hux answered. _Because he was too busy fucking me,_ he refrained from saying.

Phasma narrowed her eyes at him. “And how do you know?”

Hux hesitated. “I...texted him this morning to ask,” he explained.

Their waiter returned with their brunch; Hux gladly accepted the distraction and thanked him as he set their food on the table. When he looked back at Phasma, she was still looking at him scrutinizingly.

“What?”

“You’re sleeping with Ren, aren’t you.”

Hux sniffed; he reached for his napkin, spreading it on his lap before plucking up his knife and fork.

“Aren’t you?”

“Your eggs are getting cold,” Hux commented as he speared a bite-sized portion of his own omelette onto his fork.

“You _are!”_ she practically yelled, more entertained than angry, slamming a hand on the table.

Hux jumped. “Phasma––”

“You are,” she repeated, quieter. “This is _amazing.”_

“What?” Hux sneered.

“How long has this been going on? This is why you were both more mellow yesterday, isn’t it? Then it can’t be that long, it has to be recent. Oh,” she laughed, “this is just _brilliant.”_

“Phasma,” he hissed, “I am _not_ sleeping with Ren.”

She continued laughing, wiping a tear away from her eye. “Are you kidding me? Don’t lie. Hux, even _I_ can admit that man is a beefcake. And exactly your type. Besides”––she smirked at him––“don’t think I haven’t realised you have a shelf full of his books. Possibly every one he has written. Have you read _all_ of them? I can’t believe you’re a _Kylo Ren fan_ , in more ways than one.”

“Stop,” Hux said, adopting his Serious tone he reserved for scolding actors who weren’t cooperating. Or Ren. “Please, stop.”

Phasma’s face dropped all mirth immediately. “All right. Just...know I don’t think it’s a _bad_ thing. But I hope you know what you’re doing––you _do_ have to work with him; you _will_ have to work with him for the foreseeable future.”

Hux’s nose twitched. He went back to focusing on his omelette.

The rest of brunch passed without incident: as he expected to, Hux paid in apology for forgetting their plans, before they walked the few blocks to Holdo’s office. Though they were fifteen minutes early, Poe was already there, nose buried in his notebook––aside from a greeting, Hux and Phasma didn’t bother him. While Phasma exchanged pleasantries with Holdo, Hux took up his usual spot on the couch she had in her office, setting up his pens and notes on the coffee table in front of him.

Ren arrived one minute late––not that Hux was counting, he was simply looking over the rehearsal schedule again on his phone and happened to glance at the time when Ren walked in.

“I’ll call Rose’s agent,” Poe immediately offered before Holdo could even announce they would start the meeting. He rushed out to the foyer, phone in hand.

Hux was confused by his enthusiasm; Rose was guaranteed to say yes, why rush?

“He’s excited,” Ren deadpanned.

“Quite,” Hux said, without taking his eyes off his phone. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Ren glance at him, and Phasma trying to get his attention, but he ignored them both.

“So while we wait for Poe to get back,” Holdo went on, “did you get a chance to approve those rehearsal schedules, Hux?”

“I did, but I’m looking them over one last time right now.”

Ren cleared his throat. “Was I supposed to get a copy of those too, or…?”

“I will cc you the final version,” Hux responded, still refusing to look up from his phone. “Don’t worry, it lists which rehearsals you aren’t required to attend, too, so that there’s no repeat of our callbacks incident.”

Ren scoffed.

Holdo chose not to comment on the exchange. “Phasma, is your orchestra good to go?”

“Yes,” she confirmed. “I’ve got Studio 3B booked for us, I’m waiting to hear back from one string player before I get Hux to sign off on our rehearsal schedule.”

Holdo sighed with relief. “Good. Things are moving along well.”

Poe slammed the door open, grinning ear to ear as he re-entered the office. “Rose accepts the role. Which, of course she does.” He shut the door at a more appropriate volume and stood triumphantly. “We have our Padmé.”

Everyone applauded––Hux cringed internally at the awkwardness of it. They’d cast their lead and they were clapping as if it was a job well done? Not that it had been an easy decision, but _they_ hadn’t been doing the heavy lifting.

“So that’s our cast,” Hux said. “Now we can discuss––”

“We still don’t have a Palpatine,” Holdo corrected him. “And rehearsals start in five days.”

He’d been trying to avoid that discussion, because no doubt Ren would try to bring in another star. But of course, there was no getting past Holdo.

“Our ensemble is incredibly talented,” Hux suggested. “Why not promote one of them to Palpatine?”

Ren cleared his throat. “Amilyn and I discussed it yesterday, and...I have someone.”

Hux sighed; he’d predicted this. If Ren brought in _another_ star, so help him he would––

“Luke Skywalker has agreed to come out of retirement for us,” Ren announced. “He will be our Palpatine.”


	4. Act Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the second act: the climax; the resolution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for the delay! i was away and then it was my birthday and then Infinity War happened... anyway, here is a longer chapter, again unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine. and THANK YOU for all the lovely comments, i am so happy y'all are enjoying this very niche and self-indulgent fic!

“Have we all had enough time to read over the contract Luke’s agent sent over?” Holdo asked.

A chorus of yeses responded; except for Hux, who was left scowling at the piece of paper in his hand.

“Armitage?” Holdo said.

“This is ridiculous,” Hux answered. He threw the paper onto Holdo’s coffee table but the paper was too light and overshot, drifting off onto the floor instead. Frankly, he thought it belonged there. “Have you _seen_ his demands?”

Ren shrugged. “He’s not asking for pay.”

Hux shot him a glare. He’d slept with the man for three nights now yet he hadn’t bothered mentioning even _once_ that he had somehow pulled some strings out of nowhere and convinced Luke fucking Skywalker to come out of retirement for their production. Hux decided he would _not_ have sex with Ren ever again.

“But _everything else?”_

“Considering this is Broadway legend _Luke Skywalker_ ,” Holdo said, “I think this is a generous offer.”

“I can’t be the only one puzzled by these demands.”

“Well,” Poe said hesitantly, “it _does_ seem a bit...diva-ish?”

Hux scoffed. “A _hot tub_ in his _own_ private bathroom?”

“That request is for if he stays with the production through to Broadway,” Holdo explained. “For now he’s agreed for us to pay a membership at the gym across the street from our studio so he can use the hot tub there.”

“But what in God’s name is that _natural green power smoothie_ and _why_ does he require it to be made fresh _and_ delivered to him every two hours?”

Ren perked up. “Oh, I can answer this one. It’s a special kind of protein shake with matcha, cashew milk, chia seeds, bone broth and collagen protein powder, kale, ginger, and stevia.”

Hux stared at him for a beat. “That sounds disgusting,” he deadpanned.

“I think I just threw up a little in my mouth,” Poe said.

“It’s not as bad when it’s made fresh,” Ren defended the monstrous concoction. “That’s why it _needs_ to be made fresh.”

“You’ve _tried_ this infernal creation?”

Ren flashed him a look. “Of course.”

Hux wanted to ask where, when, and most importantly _why_ but Ren continued without room for interruption.

“Look, I will take care of the smoothie––I’ll get the ingredients out of pocket and have my PA make and deliver them to Luke. He’s doing this for us pro bono and he’s fucking _coming out of retirement_ for _Queen._ The press is going to go _nuts,_ investors will flock to our show. Holdo and I discussed this yesterday: with Luke and enough financial support, we think we could even circumvent an off-Broadway run and go right to Broadway. These requests are nothing in comparison.”

Hux exchanged a glance with Poe; even Phasma was staring dumbfounded at Ren. When had the first-timer become such an _expert_ on the world of theatre?

Poe gave in first. “He’s a legend, and Kylo and Holdo are right about the press this would bring. Nobody has any other ideas. Let’s bring him on.”

“Agreed, for the same reasons and with the same sentiment,” Phasma said.

Hux sighed melodramatically, making his objection known. “Likewise, I suppose,” he said, defeated.

“Excellent.” Holdo clapped once. “I’ll get in touch with Art. Luke will be driving down from his residence in Woodstock on Monday morning for rehearsal––Kylo, will you arrange the hotel for him?”

Ren nodded. “On it.”

“He will only need accomodation for the days he’s required at rehearsal––Armitage? Are the rehearsal schedules ready?”

“All except the orchestra’s,” Hux said, “but that’s nothing to do with Luke’s.”

“Send that one to us now,” Holdo ordered. “Kylo will need it to know when to book Luke’s hotel. Wait for Phasma’s final schedule before you send it out to the rest of the cast.”

Hux nodded and reached for his phone, forwarding the document to the production team. Holdo’s level-headedness about all of these matters certainly helped Hux feel less betrayed, less annoyed, to have been kept out of the loop. He had a feeling he would need more of the reassurance that came with Holdo’s authority to keep calm in the future.

Holdo’s desktop chimed with an email alert. “Thank you,” she said. She paused for a moment, briefly looking over the schedule––the rest of the room remained silent, everyone except Hux having grabbed their phones to read the same email. “I believe that’s all we had to discuss today,” Holdo went on. “Unless anyone has any other concerns, I think we’re good––we will reconvene on Monday for our first rehearsal.”

Hux took his time leaving the office, lingering a little: he gathered up his notes slowly and took his time packing it all into his messenger bag. He knew Phasma had some other commitment today so she took off immediately, Poe and Ren following closely on her heels.

“Armitage,” Holdo interrupted him before he could leave. “You’re disappointed?”

He frowned. “Not...not exactly.”

“Why the hesitation about Luke? If anything, the fact that he’s Padmé Amidala’s son should give him some credibility in taking a role in a musical about her.”

“I know that, at heart,” Hux explained. “And the fact that Luke agreed to come out of retirement at all is astounding. But you know my feelings on younger actors.”

Holdo half-smiled at him. “I do. I think it’s good to do that but I also think it’s necessary to have a balance.” She tilted her head, observing him. “Something else bothered you, though.”

“Was the secrecy necessary?” Hux asked, wincing at just how nagging his voice sounded. “Why spring this on us today instead of mentioning it when it first became an option?”

“Ah. That you’ll have to ask Kylo––he brought it to me, as a _possibility,_ just before the callbacks and asked that I not consult you all until he had a tentative agreement. Which, you saw the contract, was sent just this morning.”

Hux hummed. So it _was_ Ren’s fault.

“It’ll be fine,” Holdo assured him. “You’ll see on Monday––things will be good.”

“Right. Well, I will forward you the orchestra’s schedule as soon as it’s finalised. Otherwise…”

Holdo nodded. “See you Monday.”

Hux smiled tightly and left her office.

And of course, by the time he reached the ground floor, he found Ren waiting for him.

Ren called out to him as soon as he spotted him exiting the elevator. “Hux! Over here!”

Hux sighed and stopped, approaching Ren in his corner of the foyer. “Yes, Ren?”

“I was thinking––I have some edits on scene five to do, and could maybe use some... _input._ ” He smirked, then paused when Hux didn’t respond. “All right, I wouldn’t mind if you _actually_ took a look over this draft but you get what I mean about the other stuff.”

Hux simply stared back at him.

“What?”

“You think I still want to sleep with you after the shit you just pulled? You’re really going to pretend you didn’t just stab me in the back?”

Ren started to laugh. “Luke’s casting? Wow, way to be melodramatic about this, Hux.”

Hux glowered at him.

“You,” Ren said incredulously, “you are really upset by this.”

“Of course I am,” Hux yelled. He glanced over his shoulder, remembering they were in public, and lowered his voice. “What you did was inappropriate.”

Ren furrowed his brows: a sign which Hux knew by now meant he was getting angry. “Excuse me?”

“You don’t think it was inappropriate to go behind my back and cast the antagonist in _my_ production?”

“It’s _my_ show,” Ren growled.

Hux rolled his eyes. “It’s _ours._ You agreed to that when you brought me on.”

“I can still fire you,” Ren warned, “there _is_ that clause in your contract.”

Hux had to laugh at that. “Go on, then. Try. See if you get Amilyn, Poe, and Phasma to agree to that. Just _try_ and find a director willing to step in with less than a weeks’ notice before rehearsals. And most importantly: I’d like to see you try finding another director who will give this production even a _shred_ of the depth, the intricacy, the _talent_ that I would. You won’t.”

Ren said nothing; he clenched his jaw instead, leveling Hux with a menacing look––or, at least, trying to.

“I thought as much.” Hux scoffed.

“Keep this up and I’ll try.”

Hux stepped forward, putting himself dangerously close to Ren’s face. “I’m not some literary editor you can bully, Ren. You’re not writing a novel––this is a musical. We’re a _team._ And we need to work as one. You need to learn that, fast.”

“Then don’t be a hypocrite,” Ren bit back. “You’ve tried to undermine and even embarrass me on multiple occasions––what kind of teamwork is that? Sounds like you need a lesson yourself.”

Pursing his lips slightly, Hux narrowed his eyes at Ren; as loath as he was to admit it, Ren was somewhat right.

But Hux would rather quit this production than admit it.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Ren,” he said instead. “I will see you on Monday for our first rehearsal.”

With that, Hux spun on his heel and rapidly strode away, eager to put as much distance as possible between him and Kylo Ren.

* * *

Rey was panting when she reached the studio, having run all the way from the subway. She paused in front of the door, taking a minute to catch her breath, and checked her phone: good, she still had two minutes before she was technically late. And she refused to be late for her first day of rehearsals, in her first _real_ Broadway production.

It was her own fault, anyway: she hadn’t meant to pass out at Rose’s apartment last night, but Rose had put on some movie on Netflix that Rey had _really_ tried to be interested in. Obviously, she hadn’t tried enough because she’d woken up randomly at five that morning, still in Rose’s bed, and had to rush home to change and collect her rehearsal gear before making her way to the studio. Nothing else had even happened between them; though they were constantly texting, Rose had never mentioned the kiss. Rey wasn’t even sure what Rose wanted from her––Rose had a lot on her plate right now, so Rey would wait for her to say something first.

Rey took a last deep breath and pushed open the studio door.

Her eyes immediately found Finn’s; as always, he smiled brightly and gestured for her to come over. While she crossed the floor to sit next to him, she saw Rose sitting at a bench along the side of the room. She caught her eye and waved, getting a shy smile and wave in return.

“You’ll find about three worried texts from me,” Finn greeted her as she sat down. “Sorry––I didn’t know where you were.”

“It’s fine, I appreciate the concern,” Rey said. “I, uh, overslept. I guess all the stress and exhaustion finally caught up?”

Finn hummed. “This is why it’s good we’re moving in together; we can make sure we both get to rehearsals on time.”

“Exactly,” Rey chuckled. “Did you find out if it’s Friday or Saturday that we’re meant to get the keys?”

“Friday. We’ll probably have to go straight from rehearsal. And we could get a drink to celebrate after?”

Rey nodded. “Sounds good. I’ll make sure I don’t have any shifts Friday night, then.”

“Hey,” Rose interrupted as she approached them. She gestured to the other seat next to Rey in question, and Rey nodded. “Good morning, you two.”

“Hey Rose!” Finn smiled at her. “I heard you met Rey?”

“Yes, we did,” she confirmed. She turned from him to Rey. “Sorry about last night, I didn’t want to wake you––you seemed pretty tired. What time did you leave this morning?”

Rey felt heat rising in her cheeks as she ignored Finn’s very curious stare––she’d told him about meeting Rose at the callbacks, but not about kind-of-not-really asking her out. “Yeah, that’s––that’s fine, don’t worry about it. I just had to run home and get my stuff for today which is why I left in a hurry. Sorry.”

Rose smiled. “That’s fine, sorry to make you almost late!”

Finn inhaled loudly, seemingly ready to interject, when Hux stood up from behind the production team table and a hush fell over the room. Finn shot Rey a _‘you better tell me about this later’_ look before turning to Hux, watching their director move to stand in the middle of the studio.

Hux cleared his throat and linked his hands behind his back, almost like he was standing at parade rest, ready to address his troops. “Good morning, all,” he announced. “Welcome to rehearsal day one for _Queen.”_ Everyone clapped, though it was short lived: Hux raised a hand to silence them. “I’d like to thank you all for being here, and for being the brave ones to help us get this project in the air. I know workshops don’t have exactly the best salary”––he paused as everyone laughed awkwardly––“but the workshop has birthed some of the greatest musicals of our generation. And that’s what we’re trying to do here. Which would not be possible without all of you.” Hux motioned towards the cast in front of him, the orchestra stood off to the side, and the production team behind him. “So thank you for coming along on this journey.”

The cast applauded again, but this felt more genuine and less awkward than the last.

“First things first: introductions. Most of you know me but I’ll start, anyway.” He moved his right hand from behind his back and placed his palm on his chest. “I am Armitage Hux, director.” He gestured to each of the production team sat at the table, who stood up as he called their names. “Amilyn Holdo, executive producer. Poe Dameron, composer. Ludovica Phasma, maestro to our orchestra.” Hux turned back towards the cast. “Our writer, Kylo Ren, will be arriving momentarily. While we wait, we’ll continue the introductions so that the orchestra can go to Studio 3B and begin their rehearsal as soon as possible. But I would like the pleasure of introducing our titular character: Rose Tico as Padmé Amidala.”

Hux signalled Rose to stand, who did and waved at the rest of the cast as everyone cheered for her.

“Our Anakin Skywalker will be played by Ransolm Casterfo, who some of you may have heard of. Due to prior tour schedules, he will be joining us next week.” Hux cleared his throat before going on. “Everyone else: please stand and state your name and role. Orchestra: your name and instrument.”

As per his instructions, the cast went first and introduced themselves in turn. Though there were only twenty or so of them, Rey had trouble catching all of their names––those she remembered were Tallie, Temmin, and Iolo playing Mon, Ben, and Bail. The orchestra went next: Rey easily recognised the pianist, Jessika, from auditions and callbacks, but it was even harder to hear them since they were strategically placed by the door to escape to their own studio with more ease.

After they were done, Hux clapped once, rubbing his hands together. “Excellent. Phasma, you can take the orchestra an––”

The door to the studio slammed open, and Kylo Ren stalked inside followed by...someone else.

“Sorry we’re late!”

Rey gasped softly. “Oh…”

Finn glanced at her, worried. “What?” he whispered.

“Fuck,” Rey whispered back.

Rose leaned over to her. “Is everything okay?”

Luke Skywalker rushed into the studio behind Kylo, dramatically waving at the cast as a noise of surprise swept across the room.

“Traffic is just _not_ what it used to be,” Luke said. “Totally my fault that we’re late, I am sorry.”

“Right,” Hux deadpanned. He cleared his throat, as if trying to put some emotion back into it. “Last but certainly not least, I should introduce Luke Skywalker: our Sheev Palpatine.”

“Oh shit,” Rey and Finn whispered to each other in unison, the sound of their voices drowned out by the applause and cheers coming from the cast and orchestra.

“Are you all right?” Rose asked.

Rey smiled tightly, joining in on the applause. _“I’m_ fine,” she assured her, “but being in this production just got a _lot_ more complicated.”

* * *

“I’ll just be five more minutes!” Luke called out to him from the suite’s master bedroom.

“Right,” Kylo yelled back, staring blankly at his laptop. He’d stopped checking the time two _“another five minutes”_ ago, and it hardly mattered if Luke was late anyway––Hux would start rehearsal without them, like he’s been doing.

Kylo scowled. Hux, the thorn in his side. The micromanaging asshole who freaked out at even the slightest loss of control. He hadn’t so much as spared Kylo a glance since their fight, not that that upset him; he was better off without a distraction to keep him away from finishing the script. But he wasn’t making much progress with that, either, and therein lay the biggest problem: he hated to admit it, but Hux was actually a big help during their after-hour work sessions together. Kylo had gotten more writing done after those evenings than he had in the past week combined. And now that they weren’t talking, Kylo couldn’t exactly openly ask Hux for help anymore.

It didn’t help that Kylo had also _really fucking enjoyed_ sleeping with Hux; mind-blowing orgasms tended to give him better rest and, therefore, a clearer mind with which to write. He didn’t have that anymore, either, and he wasn’t going to be the first one to relent. If Hux thought ignoring him would earn him an apology, he would be waiting a damn long time.

“Ready!” Luke called out as he emerged from his bedroom. He’d changed his shirt––again.

“Really?”

“What, the shirt?” Luke looked down at his outfit. “Was the blue one better? I thought maybe earthy tones would be good today. Or maybe the striped one was better? Should I change back?”

“Forget it,” Kylo said and stood before Luke could do anything. “I’ll call the car.”

He stood and texted their hired driver, telling him to meet them at the front of the hotel, before he packed his laptop away and picked up both his and Luke’s bags. Luke led the way downstairs, humming the song they’d learned at rehearsal yesterday all the way down the elevator.

“I called Leia last night,” Luke announced as they piled into the backseat of the car. “I invited her to the workshop, seeing as you haven’t _already_ extended an invitation to her. Could you talk to Amilyn and see about her sending your mother an official invite? Or should I do that myself?”

Kylo rolled his eyes. “I’ll do it.”

Luke patted him on the forearm twice. “Thank you. I know you and Leia are on...relatively _okay_ terms right now, and this would mean so much to her. So thank you, Kylo.”

It seemed so normal from everyone else, but because the rest of his family still tried to call him _Ben_ ––even though it’d been over a decade since he’d legally changed his name––it was still jarring for Kylo to hear _Luke,_ of all people, addressing him correctly.

Though Kylo Ren had started off as his pseudonym when he was first published, created to distance himself from his mother’s writing and his family in general, over the years he’d begun to feel more like Kylo than Ben. Kylo was his own creation: Kylo drew power from his heritage while keeping it at arm’s length, whereas Ben’s entire identity felt like it had consisted of just being a trust fund baby. So Kylo had changed his name, reinvented himself, and never looked back; oddly enough, Luke was the only one in his family who’d accepted his name change. His parents hadn’t been happy, but Luke had supported him, saying that it was good for him to not want their family’s legacy to be his defining characteristic.

“You’ve been sulking since I got here,” Luke remarked. Kylo glanced at him questioningly. “You’ve got that look about you.”

“I am not sulking,” Kylo said.

Luke raised an eyebrow. “Yes, you are––I know that look. What is it, writing problems? I’ve noticed there isn’t much of a script right now.”

“I’m not having writing problems.”

“Okay, but you know that if you _are_ having writing problems, you could always ask––”

“I’m _not_ asking Leia,” Kylo interrupted.

Luke shrugged. “I wasn’t going to say your mother. Poe is your composer and that means he’s your writing partner in all this. Why not ask him?”

Kylo snorted. “Poe already said he can’t write scripts and not to ask him.”

“Well, why not Armitage? He’d be good help––he knows exactly what looks and sounds good onstage. That’s useful for you.”

Kylo grit his teeth and turned to look out the window.

“Ah. So _that’s_ why you’re sulking.”

“I told you,” Kylo hissed, “I am _not_ sulking.”

“Call it whatever you want, but you are upset. And it has something to do with Armitage.” Luke paused. “Are you sleeping with him? Did you have a fight?”

Kylo glanced back at him in surprise. “What?”

“It’s no secret in the theatre world that he’s out, and he seems like your type. And don’t think I haven’t noticed the tension in the studio––it all makes sense now.”

Instead of confirming or denying Luke’s suspicions, Kylo held his tongue.

Luke sighed. “Listen, Kylo. Whatever is going on between you two, you should sort it out. You’re supposed to be a team––you can’t produce a musical if you’re not _talking_ to the director. I don’t know what happened, I’m not sure I _want_ to know, but this is obviously impeding your writing as well as your disposition. Talk to him, sort it out. It’ll help.”

Kylo said nothing; he just stared at his uncle.

After another moment, Luke spoke again: quieter this time, and his eyes seemed to be glazed over as if he was remembering something. “Talk to him, Kylo. Communication is key––you shouldn’t mess up a good thing just because you’re too stubborn to talk. And I’m not only referring to the production.”

Luke did not elaborate. He turned to gaze out at the buildings passing them by. Kylo looked out his own side of the car as he mulled over what his uncle had just told him.

* * *

Rose took a sip of her ice water and pursed her lips, watching Rey peruse the menu she was holding. The diner around them was relatively quiet––the only advantage of getting dinner at an appallingly late hour––aside from the sounds of the kitchen and the Top 40 radio playing softly over the speakers. Rose chewed on her straw and considered Rey for another moment before giving in and asking what she’d been dying to ask.

“Rey, we’ve been rehearsing for almost two weeks now. You have yet to elaborate on the whole Luke thing.”

“The what?” Rey asked, genuinely confused. She’d probably been too engrossed in studying the sandwich section of the menu; her head was resting in her palm, propped up on her elbow, and she was idly sipping her water through the straw without lifting her glass.

“On our first day of rehearsal,” Rose explained, “you said Luke being in _Queen_ complicates things. But...nothing’s happened? And you never explained why?”

She dropped the laminated menu and sat up straight, entwining her fingers above the table. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Rose raised an eyebrow at her.

Maybe it _was_ too personal a question? Maybe it _was_ inappropriate for her to be asking this? She’d held off for so long, and she thought they’d been spending enough time with each other––both in and out of rehearsals––to be comfortable enough to ask about it. Perhaps not. On the other hand: though Rey was hesitant, Rose gleaned from the not-quite frown on her face that she _wanted_ to talk about it––she just wasn’t quite sure how.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“No,” Rey said, “I do. You’ve been open with me, you deserve the same courtesy.”

Rose shook her head. “You don’t owe me anything. Except a basket of fries since you _did_ eat most of mine the other day.”

Rey grinned at her. “Fair. And I do want to tell you, I just...I don’t want to make a big deal about it. It’s not, really––like you said, nothing has happened. So it really _isn’t_ a big deal? I guess I thought on the first day it would be.” She shrugged. “I was wrong.”

“Okay.” Rose nodded.

“Here’s the thing…” Rey hesitated, biting her lip. Rose tried not to stare too hard. “Remember I told you about my dad going through a really bad break up?”

“Yes.”

“Well…”

It took a few seconds before it clicked in Rose’s head. “Shut up. No way–– _Luke Skywalker_ is your dad’s ex?”

Rey immediately put her hands up in front of her, palms out. “I told you, it’s not a big deal.”

“Luke Skywalker basically sent your dad across an ocean after they ended their _very serious_ relationship,” Rose said, sounding it out to really absorb the information. _“Luke Skywalker_ and your _father_ broke up so _Luke Skywalker_ could focus on his career?”

“Please don’t make it a big deal.”

Rose took a deep breath, trying to do what Rey asked but struggling to wrap her head around it.

“Please?”

“I’m trying,” she assured her. She opened up the napkin-and-cutlery bundle, taking out her fork and knife, and pushed the fork around on the table for a minute to digest the news Rey had just told her.

“Rose?” Rey asked after a bit.

“You said that your dad would have _married_ his ex,” Rose said. “That means Luke Skywalker could have been your stepfather.”

Rey sighed. “I really didn’t want to make a big deal out of this. It’s not, it really isn’t.”

“Okay,” Rose said. “Luke Skywalker has _six_ Tony awards––seven if you include the career achievement one. You are an aspiring Broadway actor. You have _one degree of separation_ from Luke Skywalker.” She exhaled slowly. “I’m sorry, I just really needed to get that out. I’ll stop now––I will not mention it again.”

“Thanks,” Rey deadpanned.

“I’m sorry! It’s just––mind-blowing. Especially when you think of what could have been.”

Rey frowned. “Finn is the only person I’ve ever told, by the way. He had...a similar reaction. I guess I’ve lived with the idea for so long that it’s no longer novel to me.”

Rose sipped her water and chewed on her straw again, considering what to say next. She was right: Rey _did_ want to talk about it, but because it was a sensitive subject Rose had to tread carefully. “Was it really Luke’s Broadway career that drove them apart?”

“Yes.” Rey nodded. “A lot of their relationship was spent long distance––not as easy back then as it is now. Every opportunity they had to live together, Luke ended up choosing his career instead. After a while Dad said he didn’t want to be the second choice anymore.”

“Did he...your dad, did he ever regret it?”

“I think he was lonely,” Rey admitted. “I think he still loved Luke very much. But he didn’t want to go back––he used to tell me I was all he needed. That he and I were his entire world. And when I took a liking to musical theatre, he enrolled me in every after school vocal, dance, and acting class he could. He watched every school production I was in––he even took me down to London a few times for some West End auditions. I never got any, of course. But Dad was always so, so encouraging.” She frowned, turning to look out the window. “A part of me thinks that he was so supportive of my dream because he felt guilty for not being better about supporting Luke’s. That fate had given him a child with the same dream as the love of his life, which was a sign that he should never have doubted Luke and Luke’s career choice.”

For a fleeting moment, Rose saw the usual strength in Rey’s eyes flicker as she thought about her father. Rose knew that feeling all too well; she reached out and grasped Rey’s hand, squeezing it once.

“I just think the fact he was so supportive shows he was a great father,” Rose said, “and that he loved you very much. That he believed in you.”

Rey glanced down at their hands with wide eyes, and for a second Rose thought Rey would pull away and scorn her. Instead, Rey looked up and smiled, returning Rose’s squeeze. “Thank you.”

They sat in silence for a moment, Rey still clutching Rose’s hand.

“Sorry I’m late!” Finn’s voice materialised above them. He slid into the booth next to Rey, nodding at both of them in greeting.

Rose snatched her hand away too fast; she didn’t miss the brief hurt look in Rey’s eyes.

“Hey!” she greeted Finn. “What took you so long?”

Finn sighed as he picked up the menu Rey had set down earlier. “Hux asked me to stay behind to help him with the big Palpatine number––something about needing a better dancer than he is to help him choreograph it?” He shrugged. “Not sure why, because Hux is a decent dancer and Luke can’t really do the elaborate choreography Hux has planned. He’s gonna have to change it.”

“But you can?” Rey asked.

“Of course,” Finn boasted. “I guess I’m just glad Hux can recognise that too? I took it as a compliment, really.” He looked over the menu. “But that’s over––I’m starving. Have you guys decided what to order?”

“No,” Rey and Rose said at the same time.

Finn looked between them and laughed. “What have you been doing all this time?”

“Having good conversation, peanut,” Rey said. She stuck her tongue out at him.

He rolled his eyes teasingly. “What about?”

“Rey was just telling me about the whole Luke history situation,” Rose explained.

Finn turned to Rey, both eyebrows raised. “Really?” He looked at Rose and chuckled. “She must like you a lot if you’ve unlocked her backstory.”

Rose laughed but stopped when Rey seemed quiet; she watched her take a sip of her water silently.

“Nah,” Rose said. She picked up the dull knife from her rest of the cheap diner cutlery. “I threatened her at knifepoint, she had no choice but to tell me.”

Rey clamped a hand over her mouth as she giggled and spat a tiny bit of water onto the table in front of her. Rose exchanged a look with Finn and they both broke into laughter, Rey joining in once she had set down her glass safely.

* * *

Hux had a plan.

It wasn’t the best plan––frankly, Hux considered it among his worst––but if there was even a chance of it working, he _had_ to try.

Rehearsals had been progressing somewhat smoothly: the orchestra were practically performance ready, the ensemble was effortlessly picking up his choreography and Poe’s music, and their main characters were on top of their lines (or rather: the relatively few lines Ren had given them so far); Rose was ever the professional and absolutely perfect as Padmé; even Hux had to admit that he couldn’t complain about Ransolm Casterfo, who had shown up halfway through week two. Though the singer––who’d become famous through one of those reality TV competitions, Hux couldn’t remember which one––was not the best actor, he could sing whatever Poe threw at him and follow Hux’s choreography well enough; the workshop was meant to showcase the musical, anyway, not the actors. Casterfo, surprisingly, was not the problem.

_Skywalker_ was.

Hux did have to give him credit: he had the most impressive _presence_ in the room and though he was in his early sixties he could still dance most of the choreography, but not as well as he used to. The problem was that now, after being ‘retired’ for several years, Luke was having trouble keeping up with the younger actors. Normally such a thing wouldn’t be an issue; it wasn’t like Hux hadn’t worked with older actors before. The problem was that Poe had not only included Palpatine in one of the bigger ensemble dance numbers, but had written an entire solo song for the character: a solo that _required_ faster, more complex choreography.

And Hux was not in the business of simplifying his choreography. If one in the cast couldn’t do it, he usually removed them from that particular number.

But it wasn’t as if Hux could kick Skywalker out of his _own_ song, and there lay the problem: Luke simply couldn’t _do_ what Hux had in mind. The song Poe had crafted absolutely demanded high-energy, upbeat, and exciting dance moves, and Hux would not settle for anything less––it would make the song a blemish instead of the show-stopping number it _should_ be. It would be an insult to the quality he’d promised when Poe had asked him to join the production.

So Hux had a plan: an attempt to get rid of Skywalker and replace him.

As Poe had suggested, he’d been watching Finn since they started rehearsals. Of course Poe had been right about the kid’s talent, so Hux had selected him to not only unknowingly assist in this plan, but to take Palpatine’s role if the plan was successful. Hux had no doubt Finn could do it: the part was well within his vocal range. Hux had even asked him to stay behind after rehearsal one day to assess whether his dancing was up to par, which it was––he had _exceeded_ Hux’s expectations.

Because Luke lived upstate, he was only at rehearsals two or three days a week; Hux decided to enact his plan later in the week, which would give Luke a few days back at home to consider whether he wanted to continue in the production or not. If it worked, it would be the latter.

The Big Day started as normal: Hux stretched and warmed up with the cast before going through his schedule for the day with their stage manager, Kaydel, while everyone else did a vocal warm up with Jessika. Hux recapped his notes from yesterday and was going through their order of business for the day when Luke and Ren arrived at the studio, late as usual.

“Sorry!” Luke stage-whispered.

Hux nodded in greeting but continued in his speech, pointedly ignoring Ren as he pulled up a chair for Luke and retreated to the production team table. He had no idea _why_ Ren was still coming to rehearsal everyday when it wasn’t required––it annoyed Hux to no end to catch glimpses of Ren looking, _not_ typing, gloomily at his laptop while Hux was _trying_ to direct a scene. It wasn’t as if being there was productive for Ren, because they were still missing large chunks of their script. But Hux would _not_ offer help again and he refused to talk to him above the bare necessity, which usually only arose at production team meetings. Even then, Hux usually spoke to the room at large and could avoid speaking with Ren directly.

“All right then,” Hux continued, “now that Luke has arrived, we can start the day with Palpatine’s big solo: _I Am The Senate._ While Phasma and Poe were going through the music with all of you yesterday, I was finishing up the choreography. We’ll do the usual: I’ll demonstrate, we all learn, and then I’ll select who is in the number or not. In this number everyone, including Palpatine, will be in unison––so no difference between the ensemble’s versus soloist’s choreography. The song is literally about Palpatine having the government in his pocket, so the idea is to show how everyone follows him and does what he does. Any questions?”

No response came, so Hux moved into position, front and center of the studio.

“Luke, would you be able to sing along with Jessika’s playing as I demonstrate?”

“Of course,” Luke said. He moved to stand beside the piano with his sheet music in hand.

“Thank you. Jessika, when you’re ready.”

Jess counted him in and began playing, while Luke came in at his cue.

Hux’s plan was officially in action: by the time the song was over, even Hux breaking a sweat. There was no way Luke _wouldn’t_ complain about this. But was it enough to have him reconsider the part?

After pausing long enough for the cast to applaud briefly, Hux turned to them with an expectant look. The ensemble were grinning, seemingly entertained and excited to learn the choreography, which was a part of the plan: everyone _else_ had to love it enough to want to keep the number as it was. When Hux turned to Luke, however, he had an apprehensive expression.

_Perfect._

“So,” Hux said. “Are we ready?”

Luke cleared his throat before anyone could move. Because of course only Luke Skywalker would have the courage to talk back to the director.

“Armitage, that was fantastic,” he started, “but are you sure the choreography needs to be quite so elaborate? Poe is already pushing the limits of anyone’s abilities with the vocal range. I’m not sure singing––neither solo nor backup––is possible while dancing _that._ ”

Hux had to subtly pinch his own thigh to stop himself from smirking. “Well, Poe had wanted a show-stopping theme for the villain––he intended this song to be one of the biggest dance numbers in _Queen_. I’m just trying to adhere to his vision.”

A phone started ringing, loudly; Ren swore, grabbed his phone, and ran out of the room. Hux resisted the urge to glare at him as he left.

Luke watched Ren leave before he shrugged, half-frowning but keeping his expression polite. “I just don’t think it’s possible.”

“I very much think it is.”

“I have no doubt our ensemble can _dance_ this,” Luke went on. “You all”––he gestured at the rest of the cast––“are phenomenal. And those not in the number could easily sing backup offstage. But as the soloist I have reservations––I don’t think it can be done.”

Hux tilted his head, making a show of pursing his lips in consideration. Here was where he needed to tread carefully: if he pushed too hard, insisting on his choreography, Luke might know something was fishy. “Perhaps we should try?”

“Who, me?” Luke asked as he pointed at himself, then shook his head.

“Hm. If I prove that it can be done, will you try?”

Luke exhaled long and loudly. “Well, sure. Go ahead.”

Hux put a hand on his chest. “I, obviously, can’t myself.” He made a show of turning to the cast, looking them over and considering. “Finn,” he called. The man raised his eyebrows in surprise but stood up all the same. “You learned the song yesterday, and you helped me with the dance––do you think you could do it?”

Finn opened and closed his mouth, glancing between Hux and Luke. “Uh, I can––I can try.”

Hux _knew_ Finn could do it: the song was well within his range and he’d made the choreography look easy when Hux had asked him to stay behind. He assumed Finn was just trying to be humble in front of everyone else, especially Luke.

“Please do,” Luke said. “It’d be nice to prove either me or Armitage wrong.”

Finn stepped forward to where Hux was; Hux retreated to stand by Luke behind the piano. Rey gave a small ‘whoop’ and got a quick glare from Finn in return, as well as a cutting look from Hux after which she settled down.

“When you’re ready,” Hux said. “Jess will count in the music, I’ll count in your dance cue.”

Everything was falling into place: as Hux expected, Finn absolutely nailed _I Am The Senate._ The rest of the cast even cheered loudly when he was done. Finn bashfully shrugged them off but before he could retreat back to his seat, they were interrupted.

“What the fuck is this?” Ren yelled. He and Poe were standing just inside the door, and Ren was staring directly at Hux as if challenging him to respond.

“Oh, nothing,” Luke dismissed. He crossed over to Ren and retrieved that disgusting green protein shake from Ren’s hands (Hux tried not to gag at the thought of the drink). “Thank you for this. Anyway, I just didn’t believe this routine could be done, because I know _I_ can’t do it, and I challenged Armitage to prove me wrong. He did, with the help of Finn––it’s no big deal.”

Ren turned from Luke to glare at Hux, his brows furrowing. “What the fuck are you trying to pull?”

“Okay!” Kaydel interrupted. “Everyone take ten––the water filter was finally changed overnight so we don’t have to use the one on the second floor anymore.”

As everyone else awkwardly filtered out of the studio to take their break, Ren stalked over to Hux with Poe trailing behind him, looking warily at Ren and apologetically at Hux. Hux stood his ground and stuck his chin out slightly, meeting Ren’s glare head-on.

“What are you playing at, Hux?”

“Kylo, really––it’s nothing.” Luke, apparently, had decided not to go on break. “I’m honestly glad to admit I was wrong!”

“Are you trying to embarrass Luke?” Ren asked accusingly.

“Hey!” Poe warned.

Luke gasped. “Kylo, how could you say such a thing? I’m definitely not embarrassed––we’ll have to change the choreography a bit for me but I’m just impressed by that kid! And Armitage is a professional, he wouldn’t embarrass me _on purpose.”_

Ren scowled at Luke and turned back to Hux. “Is that right?”

“I told you,” Hux said, “leave me to do my job. I’ll leave you to do yours. I won’t have you question my methods.”

“See!” Luke tsked and took a sip of his unpalatable drink. “Why don’t you go work on the script at home, or at least somewhere you won’t get distracted. Just tell your PA to do my smoothies for the day.” He turned to Poe and gestured at him to follow; together they headed for the door, joining the rest of the cast on break. “Come, Poe––I’ve been meaning to talk to you about the second key change in _Senate_. Is it really necessary?”

The casual way Luke spoke to Ren confused Hux––they must know each other on some personal level, which was probably how Ren had been able to recruit him in the first place. But Hux was grateful for it now, because it meant the rest of their rehearsal would be quiet and _free_ from Ren.

_Wait––_ Luke had said they’ll _“have to change the choreography.”_ Had Hux’s plan really not worked? Had he truly underestimated Luke’s humility and overestimated his ego?

“Make sure you simplify that choreography,” Ren said, the edge of a threat to his tone. “We need to accommodate _our_ star, after all. Change it to something more Luke’s speed.”

Hux scowled at him. “The number won’t look as good.”

“Don’t care. That’s _your job_ to deal with that, isn’t it?”

Ren held his gaze for a long moment––Hux thought he would break out into a smug grin at his ‘victory,’ but Ren said nothing else. He looked almost unhappy about confronting Hux. Instead, he silently turned away, packed up his bag, and left, leaving Hux alone in the studio to deal with the mess he’d created for himself.

* * *

As soon as rehearsals were done for the day, Finn breathed a sigh of relief.

He wasn’t embarrassed about performing Luke’s song––in fact, he thought he did a great job of it, but would never admit that to anyone except Rey––but the atmosphere had been awkward after Kylo had obviously not been happy about it. Finn had felt uneasy the rest of the morning, but somehow Luke had brushed the incident off as if it didn’t matter; he supposed Luke had seen worse in all his years of experience. Finn had a lot to catch up on.

Finn crossed over to the bench where he’d dumped his bag earlier and moved to sit but was interrupted by someone clearing their throat behind him. He turned.

“Finn, right?” Luke asked.

“Yeah…”

Luke smiled at him. “You’re one heck of a dancer, Finn. And you’ve got a _great_ set of pipes. You have a bright career ahead of you, kid.”

Finn was struck silent for a moment: Luke Skywalker, complimenting _him?_

“Th-thank you,” he managed to say. “That...that means a lot.”

“Coming from me, yes,” Luke said. “That really was a great performance today. Maybe one day you’ll replace me”––Luke lightly smacked his bicep, playfully––“but not just yet. This old bird still has a song or two in me yet.”

“Of course! I would never _dream_ of––”

“Yes, you would,” Luke teased. He laughed. “As friendly as everyone in this cast is, everyone is here to get one step closer to the spotlight. And you will, one day.” He reached up to Finn’s shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly. “I _know_ you will. I can practically see it already.”

“Thank you,” Finn said, unsure what else to add. He nodded tersely at Luke.

Luke nodded back; he dropped his hand, stepped away, and accepted a drink from his waiting PA. “See you next week, Finn.”

Finn watched him leave before he sat down on the bench next to his bag, bending down to undo the laces on his character shoes. He spotted Rey in his peripheral vision, bag already packed and on her shoulders, wringing her hands and biting her lip; he laughed without looking up at her and continued changing his shoes.

“Uh oh,” he said. “What’s up?”

“Peanut…”

Finn glanced up. “You made other dinner plans?”

“I’m sorry!”

Finn laughed. “It’s fine. I’ll just meet you back at home.”

“You’re the best,” she said. She bent down to peck a kiss on his cheek. “Don’t wait up for me––I’ll probably walk Rose home before I head back to Brooklyn.”

“Mhmm,” Finn teased. “Walk her home, sure.”

“Finn!” Rey clutched her chest, mock-scandalised.

He pushed her towards the studio door, tsk-ing at her. “Just go, don’t keep your girlfriend waiting.”

“She’s not my––”

“Okay, just go!”

Rey kept walking but paused in the studio doorway. “Love you peanut!”

Finn waved her off as she left. He sighed and lingered a few minutes, until even Hux and Kay had left the studio. He fished his regular sneakers out of his bag to put them on but as he bent over to tie his laces, another set of footsteps approached him.

“That was really impressive, today.”

Startled, Finn looked up at Poe. “Oh, uh, thanks,” Finn said, smiling and nodding at Poe.

Poe took another few steps forward; he stopped directly in front of Finn and grinned. “I only caught the tail-end of that performance, but I mean it––you’re really talented, Finn.”

Finn busied himself with packing away his character shoes, trying not to seem embarrassed. “Thank you,” he repeated. “I wouldn’t be in the cast if I wasn’t good at what I do, though––”

“Pfft,” Poe interrupted. Finn glanced up. “Now’s not the time to be humble. I’ve been watching you, and I don’t understand why you don’t have more stage experience. Your resume is mostly dance. Why is that?”

_‘I’ve been watching you’_ stuck in Finn’s head. He swallowed, trying to will his heart rate to slow down. Over the weeks of rehearsal, he’d hardly had time to speak with Poe alone––he hadn’t even realised Poe had noticed him, at least not singled him out of the larger group of ensemble. Finn almost blushed at the thought that _Poe_ had been watching him and thought he was talented.

“You don’t have to answer my question,” Poe said, taking a seat next to Finn on the bench. “I’m sure there’s a reason or story behind it. All I can say now is that I’m glad you’re with us, bringing your talent to this show.”

“Me?” Finn had to chuckle. “I’ve been such a fan of your work for so long–– _I’m_ just glad I could be a part and help bring another one of your masterpieces to life.”

Poe lightly smacked Finn’s knee as he laughed heartily. “Don’t let Kylo overhear you saying that, he thinks this show is his baby and his alone.”

Finn frowned. “He might have written the book _Queen_ is based off of, and he might be writing the script, but he’s not the one writing the music. Or directing it, or actually putting on the show, for that matter.”

“I didn’t say I agreed with him,” Poe said, lowering his voice almost conspiratorially. “But let’s not mention that in front of him; we don’t want to cause another outburst, especially with the workshop fast approaching.”

“Right.” Finn laughed. “I feel like that would jinx us or something.”

“Tell me about it. Sometimes I wonder why I’ve put up with the guy for so long.”

Finn tilted his head in question. “So long? Just how long have you known him?”

“Ah, we grew up together,” Poe said dismissively. “Lost touch for a few years, it’s a whole long story.”

“Sounds...like it could be interesting?”

Poe looked at him for a moment, considering. He bit his lip as he did so––not that Finn noticed. Nope.

“Tell you what,” Poe went on, “I’ll exchange stories with you––my so-called friendship with Kylo Ren and your reasons for this show being your Broadway debut––over drinks. If you want, that is?”

Finn considered it. It’s not like he had plans: Rey would be out late, if she came home at all. And Finn had been trying to get Poe’s attention for years; professionally, of course, but...maybe now personally.

“I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

* * *

Kylo tapped his foot impatiently on the sidewalk, silently watching everyone on the street passing him without a second glance. He pushed his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose and checked the time on his phone again––rehearsals would just be finishing. Sighing, he crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, waiting for the people who would soon be streaming out of the building behind him.

He didn’t exactly _want_ to be here––it was, really, his last resort. And it was only partially because Luke had chewed him out the other day over yelling at Hux in front of the cast. By no means was Kylo here because he _missed_ Hux.

The first few cast members that Kylo recognised finally emerged from the building. No one paid him much attention, aside from a few in the ensemble who nodded at him in greeting. The orchestra left next, along with Phasma, who was staring at her phone and didn’t notice him. Thankfully, he’d double-checked the rehearsal schedule for today and knew Poe wouldn’t be here; Kylo wouldn’t have to explain his loitering to him. Ransolm Casterfo and his PA followed, both engrossed in a conversation about his next album––they piled into a waiting SUV with blacked out windows, driving off before Kylo even realised it was him. Finn, Rey, and Rose exited next, but headed in the opposite direction and therefore did not notice him, either.

Finally, after several more minutes, Hux emerged from the building, probably having taken the extra time to change out of his dance clothes. He paused when he saw Kylo; he said nothing, adjusted his bag on his shoulder, and continued on silently.

“Hux!” Kylo called out to him. He pushed off the wall and took a step towards him.

If Hux heard him, he showed no indication: he continued walking down the block towards the subway.

“Hux,” Kylo repeated, louder. Still ignored. He increased his pace. “Hux, I know you can hear me.”

“I can,” Hux said without turning around, “but I am choosing not to.”

Kylo rolled his eyes. “So even if I was trying to apologise you wouldn’t listen?”

Hux stopped in his tracks; Kylo almost walked into him, but stopped in time and took a step back to put some space between them.

“What?”

“I––” Kylo sighed. He took off his sunglasses and hung them off his t-shirt collar. “You heard me. I...I want to apologise.”

Hux turned around slowly and looked him up and down, but said nothing.

“Uh, Hux?”

“You may proceed,” he said.

Kylo rolled his eyes. _“Thank you_ for permission.”

Hux crossed his arms.

“Okay. On with it. Right.” He took a breath, held it, then exhaled slowly. “Look, I’m...I’m not happy with whatever you tried to pull the other day, but––”

“Off to a great start,” Hux interrupted.

Kylo’s upper lip twitched but he managed to stop himself from fully scowling. “I’m _trying._ And I mean it––I’m not sure what the hell you were trying to do, and I didn’t like it. I’m only telling you because I want to be honest with this apology so that you know I’m being genuine.”

“...all right, fair enough. Go on.”

“You were right,” Kylo admitted. “We’re supposed to be a team. You want this musical to succeed as much as I do––as much as Poe, Amilyn, or Phasma, or any of the cast do. I shouldn’t have kept you in the dark about any major decision, so for that I’m sorry.”

Hux dropped his arms, his eyebrows rising in surprise.

Taking that as a good sign, Kylo went on. “And it was wrong for me to challenge your authority like that in front of the whole cast the other day. Believe me, I got an earful from Luke _and_ Poe over it. But I’m not here to apologise at their behest––which is why I’m trying to be completely honest.”

“Seems reasonable,” Hux said.

“Like I said: we’re supposed to be a team. We’re four weeks from the workshop and we don’t have a finished script yet.”

“We don’t need a complete script for––”

“––for the workshop I know,” Kylo finished for him. “I’ve been told. But you’re the only one who understands just how _much_ I want this to be good. I don’t _want_ to present something that’s missing a few key scenes and several minor ones. And...because I know you understand that, I would...I would appreciate your opinion.”

Hux considered him, surprise still etched into his features. “Are you asking me for help?”

“I’m just saying I want to present something great just as much as you do, and you were a big help to me already––for other reasons too but that’s not...not why I’m here.”

Hux hummed. “What are you suggesting?”

Kylo sighed. “I’m saying that I am sorry, and if you are free I am inviting you over to help work on the script for _our_ production. And maybe we can talk things over––like about what happened the other day. I’m not asking for anything else.”

Another minute passed in silence as they tried to size each other up.

“Are you really apologising by asking me to help you with work?” Hux asked, trying to appear bored. The way his lips were pursed implied otherwise: he was considering what Kylo was offering.

“Yes,” Kylo said. “It’s what you wanted: compromise. And admitting that I need your help.”

Only Hux would accept _more_ work as an apology; Kylo knew this was the only way to get to him.

“You’re buying us take out for dinner,” Hux said finally. “And I get to choose the restaurant.”

“Fair enough,” Kylo conceded.

After a moment, Hux sighed. “Well then,” he said, gesturing behind him. “Lead the way.”

Kylo scoffed. “I don’t take the subway. Let me call an Ub––”

“You call yourself a New Yorker and you don’t take public transport?” Hux let out a single chuckle before he continued on towards the subway station. “Come on, I’ll swipe you in.”

Kylo watched him for a few paces. “Hux!”

“What?” Hux said, stopping to turn back around.

Kylo closed the distance between them in four steps, stopping mere inches in front of him. He held Hux’s gaze for a moment before moving his hands to cup Hux’s face, pulling him forwards to kiss him. Hux didn’t pull back––he moved his free hand to Kylo’s wrist, but instead of shoving it away he held on tightly. Someone, somewhere on the street, wolf-whistled but neither of them responded; they stayed pressed together until they had to break apart for air.

“Thank you,” Kylo whispered.

Hux swallowed. “You’re welcome.”

“Weirdly enough...I might have missed you.”

“That’s strange,” Hux said quietly, tilting his head. “Because I think I did, too.”

* * *

“So are you going to tell her?”

Rey blinked twice, Finn’s voice pulling her out of her daze. She looked at him questioningly. “What?”

“Rose,” Finn said. He pointed at something with his chin. “Are you going to tell her you like her and that you want to take her out to dinner?”

“We go out to dinner all the time,” Rey said. She felt her cheeks heating up but she chose not to comment on the former part of Finn’s question.

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t play dumb, peanut. Take her out to dinner like an actual date. I’m not sure why you haven’t yet––you were literally just staring at her dreamily just now.”

Rey glanced over at where Finn had been pointing and realised it was where Rose was bent over the piano with Jess and Poe, doing some warm up scales. Rey looked away quickly.

“Well?”

“She’s had so much on her plate recently,” Rey explained.

“Rey, we’ve been rehearsing for seven weeks. You’ve been crushing on her since even _before_ that.” Finn smiled and bumped his shoulder against hers. “Just ask––she obviously enjoys spending time with you. Make it...more official.”

Rey bumped his shoulder right back. “I’m not going to talk to her right _now,_ we have a workshop to perform.”

“Later, then,” Finn said. “You better––I won’t let you back into the apartment tonight until you’ve spoken to her. I’ll use the door chain.”

She laughed. “Oh _no_ , not the door chain!”

“I’m serious!” Finn chuckled. “I want you to be happy, peanut. Rose obviously makes you happy. You need to go for it.”

Rey chewed on her lip for a moment, glancing over at Rose. She seemed to notice Rey looking and waved briefly––she looked nervous, probably because they were about to perform, but she smiled brightly all the same.

“Okay,” Rey said. “But _after_ the workshop.”

Finn nodded. “I’ll hold you to it.”

“Rey,” Kay interrupted them. “Luke wants to see you––he’s in his dressing room.”

She exchanged a glance with Finn, both their mouths hanging open slightly.

“Rey?”

“Uh, yeah,” she said. “Yes, I’ll go now.”

Finn patted her shoulder in reassurance as she left, heading down the hall to the only dressing room they had in the studio (and was reserved exclusively for Luke).

Luke hadn’t presented as much of a problem as Rey had at first thought he would; it helped that he had no idea who she or her family was. They’d conversed briefly in passing over the past few weeks, but never anything deep––it had mostly been group conversations with other cast members present. The subject of family and pasts had never come up. Luke had been amicable during all of these encounters, which left Rey wondering what this could possibly be about.

Rey knocked twice on the dressing room door before she heard Luke saying ‘enter’ from the other side. She opened the door slowly, poking her head in first. “Luke? Kay said you wanted to see me?”

“Come in, Rey,” he said. He was sat at his table, doing another last minute perusal of some sheet music. “Come in and sit. And close the door behind you.”

She did as instructed, sitting opposite Luke at the small coffee table. A copy of the program for today was sat, open, on it.

Rey swallowed.

“I was just looking at the program,” Luke said. He put the sheet music down and fully set his gaze on her. “I hope you don’t mind my asking but...Rey Antilles?”

“That’s me,” she answered.

“And you grew up in England before you moved here.” Luke hesitated. “This is probably the most infinitesimal chance, but...any relation to Captain Wedge Antilles?”

So the jig was up.

“He was my father.”

Luke exhaled and glanced away, blinking rapidly. Rey gave him a moment, letting the news wash over him.

“I don’t suppose you knew?” Luke asked.

“I did,” she answered honestly. “He told me.”

“Right.” Luke closed his eyes and sighed. He sat there for another minute before looking back at her. “I’m sorry, by the way. I’m so many years too late but you have my condolences. I didn’t find out until much later, anyway.”

The fact that he knew at all surprised her.

“I...I, uh, tried to look him up,” Luke explained, as if sensing her thoughts. “When I retired. That’s when I found out. It wasn’t the first time I had tried to find and reach out to him, of course, but before the internet it wasn’t quite so easy.”

“Why...why did you want to find him?”

Luke gave her a sad smile. “I loved your father very much, Rey. I still do. Sometimes I regret giving him up, but then I think about this incredible and strange life I’ve led and how much might not have happened if I’d chosen to stay with Wedge.” He reached across the coffee table to settle a hand on her knee. “I can sincerely tell you he was the love of my life. I am ashamed when I think on how much I hurt him. But to see he has raised such a talented, amazing young woman makes me so, so happy. So thank you.”

Rey felt a tear roll down her cheek and she hastily scrubbed it away. Luke removed his hand and instead offered her a tissue, which she accepted.

“He loved you too,” she said. “I think it would have made him happy to know you did, too.”

“I’m sure he was very happy,” Luke said. “He had you. The best daughter.”

More tears welled up in her eyes and threatened to fall; she wiped them away with the tissue, trying not to ruin her make up for the show.

“I’m sorry,” Luke said. He chuckled. “I suppose I should have waited until after the workshop. But I saw your surname and I had to talk to you immediately. Thank you.”

Rey nodded. “Thank _you_.”

Luke patted her knee once more. “Go get ready––we’ll talk more later. I’ve distracted you enough. We have a show to put on.”

She stood and made to leave. “Break a leg, Skywalker.”

“We Skywalkers don’t need luck,” he responded. “And neither do you––you’re practically a Skywalker yourself.” He winked. “See you after.”

Rey smiled at him, and smiled all the way down the corridor to backstage.

Finn and several others were nowhere to be found, which meant they were already taking their positions. Rey turned to follow suit but noticed Rose standing alone, leaning against the wall and staring at her own hands––they were visibly shaking, and she kept on clenching her fists as if trying to stop it.

Luke hadn’t waited until after the workshop––he’d waited long enough after years of trying to tell Wedge about his feelings. Rey had waited long enough, too.

“Hey,” Rey whispered as she approached Rose.

She smiled warmly when she looked up at Rey, her hands forgotten. It gave Rey the confidence she needed.

“Come to wish me to ‘break a leg?’” Rose teased, her voice unwavering but the uneasiness in her smile betraying how nervous she was.

Rey shook her head. “No. You don’t need it. I don’t believe in breaking legs or luck.” She leaned in and pressed a kiss to Rose’s lips. “I believe in _you.”_


	5. Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> finale [noun]: the last piece, division, or movement of a concert, opera, or composition; the concluding part of any performance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a special shout out to bria for kicking my ass (lovingly) and motivating me out of my writer's block to finish this story. thank you, dear! <3
> 
> and this chapter gets VERY cheesy. you have been warned. (also this is again not beta'd so all mistakes are mine)

“The reviews are starting to come in.”

Kylo set his glass of water down on the nightstand and hopped onto the bed to reach across it, snatching Hux’s phone away from him.

“Hey!” Hux protested.

“We said we weren’t going to look at the reviews until we’re all gathered in Holdo’s office on Friday,” Kylo warned. He set Hux’s phone down next to his water, out of Hux’s reach. “No cheating.”

Hux crossed his arms and watched as Kylo sat on top of the bed, not bothering to turn down the blankets. “That’s the day after, though. You're not the least bit curious?”

“Duh.” Kylo shrugged and took a sip of his water, avoiding Hux’s stare. “In an interesting turn of events, I’m apparently more patient than you.”

When he didn’t reply, Kylo hazarded a glance in his direction: a mistake, apparently, because understanding crossed Hux’s eyes.

“You’re nervous.”

Kylo scowled.

Hux hummed in amusement. “Kylo Ren is _nervous.”_

“What?”

“Nothing,” Hux said, grinning. “Just let me savour this for a little bit.”

Kylo huffed, annoyed. “Of course I’m nervous, Hux––aren’t you? I thought you wanted this production to go well?”

Hux shrugged one shoulder. “Yes, I do. But I’ve done this enough times to know that it did.” He turned down the blankets on his–– _his?––_ side of the bed and sat, tucking his feet under the sheets. “Relax. Do you think I would have let us go ahead with the workshop at all if I’d thought it would tank?”

“Well _excuse me_ for being a first-timer,” Kylo muttered. He used his legs to kick the sheets from under him instead of standing to turn them down, earning a disdainful look from Hux; Kylo ignored it, seeing as the only reason the bed was made in the first place was because Hux did it himself this morning. “Were you not nervous during your debut?”

“Of course I was,” Hux said. “Rae had several directors to choose from for _Empire’s End,_ yet she chose to go with me. I felt a lot of pressure to make sure her faith in me wasn’t misplaced; I pulled out all the stops to make sure everything was _exceptional_. By the time it premiered, I had been to the emergency room twice for collapsing, did you know that?” He paused to raise an eyebrow at Kylo. “Of course not, because I didn’t let anyone know. Not even my cast. But the production was successful, and I realised that I _was––_ that I _am––_ capable of directing an award-winning musical.”

Kylo frowned. He didn’t like the idea of Hux running himself to exhaustion, but it sounded exactly like something Hux would do––had he done that at any point in the past few months?

Not that Kylo _cared._ Hux’s wellbeing was _obviously_ Hux’s concern and none of Kylo's business.

“This is supposed to help me how?” he asked instead.

“You’re not gloating about how you’ve handled your musical theatre debut much better than I did mine?” Hux teased. “You must really be nervous.”

“Make fun all you want,” Kylo said, rolling his eyes, “but you just admitted I’m handling it well, so...I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Hux looked at him for a long moment. “It was.”

Kylo swallowed, unable to think of how to retort.

“I’m just saying,” Hux (thankfully) went on, “that there’s only so much we as creators can do, Kylo. You’re published, you know this––you can only work on your books, edit and polish them up, to a certain extent before they’re released to their audiences. What matters more is that you know you’ve put out the best quality of work you can.”

“Put out, huh?” Kylo asked, conveniently ignoring the rest of Hux’s supposed pep talk. He leaned over to nuzzle against Hux’s jaw, leaving a trail of kisses until he reached Hux’s mouth.

“Fine,” Hux complained against his lips, “ignore my wisdom. I was just trying to help.”

“Mhmm,” Kylo acknowledged as he pushed his tongue into Hux’s mouth.

Hux let him for a moment, reciprocating until Kylo tried to move closer. He put his hand on Kylo’s chest to stop him, pulling back. “Not tonight. My arse is still sore from _yesterday_ ,” Hux lamented. He scooted down the bed so that he was laying flat on his back and pulled the sheets over his body.

Kylo watched him; for whatever reason he was more turned on by this show of comfort than even Hux’s dance sweatpants. “I’ll ride you this time,” he reasoned. “You can just lay there––I’ll do all the work.”

Hux sighed, staring at the ceiling. “I’m too tired, Ren. I doubt I could get it up.”

“Too tired for sex?”

“I’ve just spent every day of the past few weeks on my feet, a lot of it dancing, and then coming back here to help _you_ with the script at night––my exhaustion is catching up with me.”

“Writing is tiring too!”

Hux scoffed. “You are incorrigible.”

“No,” Kylo defended, “I just have a high sex drive. And I’m practically nocturnal.”

“Is that why it’s such a big deal for you to wake up early,” Hux deadpanned––it wasn’t a question.

Kylo grinned in amusement. “Exactly.”

“And why you slept through the fire alarm this morning.”

“No, I was up––I just know my fire alarm is super sensitive.” Kylo chuckled. “I could smell the eggs you were making, I knew you’d be fine.”

Hux sat up on his elbows to peer at him for a moment, huffed, and then lay back down. “That hardly instills confidence––what if it wasn’t a false alarm? It was the first time I’ve cooked here, my cooking skills could have been god awful and your kitchen could have actually been on fire.”

“For some strange reason I trust you enough.”

“Hm. That _is_ strange.”

Afterwards, Kylo ended up turning them onto their sides and lazily fucking Hux’s bare thighs, cleaning up his mess––at Hux’s urging––with a soft, damp towel. He then wrapped himself around Hux, feeling and listening as his breathing evened out; Hux was asleep within minutes.

Kylo played a little game: he synced his own breaths with Hux’s, inhaling and exhaling deeply with him, counting each breath as time passed. It calmed him, wiping away all his previous concerns; his thoughts on the workshop no longer kept him from sleep.

* * *

Rey smiled to herself as she climbed the last few steps to her apartment, juggling the coffee tray and paper bag she held while she tried to fish out the keys from her pocket. Her stomach groaned as she caught a whiff of the breakfast sandwiches inside the bag, fresh from the deli downstairs; she could have stayed in the deli and had a seat at the counter to eat, but the other sandwich was for Finn––she owed him _at least_ a meal, and definitely a good story.

She also owed him her thanks, because without his pushing she would certainly have not taken Rose on a ‘real’ date last night, nor would she be in such post-coital high spirits this morning.

As she unlocked the door to their apartment, she hummed a song from the musical to herself: _Across the Stars,_ the big love duet. It was cheesy, yes, but for whatever reason it felt like it matched her mood. Rey began to sing Anakin’s part out loud, softly, as she headed to the kitchen, setting down her bounty and scooping up a coffee immediately. Making sure it was hers (milk, no sugar) and not Finn’s (half-and-half, _lots_ of sugar), she took a large sip and sighed in relief as if she could _feel_ the caffeine starting to course through her body.

It had been a long night filled with both talking and sex (Rey really had to admire Rose’s stamina), and she was _still_ exhausted from the workshop yesterday. She needed as much coffee as she could get before she had to report for her shift in a few hours.

“Finn!” she called to the apartment at large, knowing he’d likely be awake by now––Finn was a morning person. “I got breakfast! And coffee!”

A loud _thunk_ resounded back, as if he’d fallen out of bed again. Rey frowned; maybe he _hadn’t_ been awake and she was being kind of a douche?

Finn emerged from his room, eyes wide, in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt that Rey knew he hated sleeping in––yet his clothes were rumpled, as if he _had_ fallen asleep in them.

“Oh, uh, good morning Rey!” he greeted her.

“Morning, peanut,” she said, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. She slid the coffee tray towards him, then scooped out her breakfast sandwich from the bag before also passing that to Finn. “Did I wake you?”

“No, uh, um,” he stuttered, picking up his coffee and gratefully taking a gulp out of it. “Thanks. But no, I was awake, I just didn’t hear you get in. You surprised me, I thought you wouldn’t be back from Rose’s till later?”

“I have a shift at the shop today,” Rey explained. She bit into her sandwich, still suspicious of her best friend.

Finn took another sip of coffee, picking at the sleeve around the hot cup. He was _nervous._ “Oh, I didn’t realise. What happened last night? I take it it went well, since you left together?”

Rey couldn’t help the slight blush rising in her cheeks. “It went...it went very well.”

“Tell me,” Finn prompted. He was grinning now as he reached for his breakfast sandwich, more comfortable that the attention had shifted away from him.

“Well, after we left the studio, we––”

“Did someone say breakfast?”

Finn dropped his sandwich in surprise as Rey whipped her head in the direction of the voice.

Poe Dameron was emerging from Finn’s bedroom.

“Good morning!” he told Rey cheerily. “How are you, Rey?”

Rey stared at him, mouth hanging open slightly, for a minute.

“Oh, whoops.” Poe reached down and grabbed the fallen sandwich, which had luckily fallen onto the counter and not the floor. He handed it to Finn, patting his hand gently as Finn accepted it. “You dropped this.”

The action woke Rey up. “Uh, good––good morning, Poe?” She cleared her throat. “I, um, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you’d be here so I...don’t have breakfast for you?”

Poe flashed her a grin. “No problem! I’ve got a brunch meeting with Amilyn anyway. I’ll just use your bathroom and get out of your hair.”

He moved past the both of them to their bathroom, locking the door behind him.

Rey turned to Finn, an eyebrow raised. He stared back, taking a bite of his sandwich instead of saying anything.

“So...Poe, huh?”

Finn nodded.

“How long?”

“I’ll tell you everything, I promise.”

Rey couldn’t decide if she wanted to be excited for him, or if she was hurt that her best friend _and roommate_ hadn’t told her he was seeing someone.

“Finn, he is kind of our boss––you know that, right?”

Finn shook his head. “We know; it’s not like that. Nothing really happened until last night, I promise.”

Rey chewed on her bottom lip. “But if the musical goes forward? Finn, you’re sleeping with the composer!”

“And you’re sleeping with the star of the show!”

“And the _director_ is sleeping with the _writer!”_ Poe called out suddenly, reappearing and surprising the both of them.

The two roommates glanced at him in surprise.

“Great, now that that’s settled...” Poe cleared his throat. “Rey? I totally get your concern. Don’t worry, I promise I won’t hurt your best friend. And we’ll be careful. Finn? I’ve gotta go but I’ll text you later?” He smiled warmly at Finn before heading towards the front door. “Also, Rose? Great job, Rey!”

The front door slammed shut and Poe was gone.

Finn and Rey stared after the door silently, processing what had just occurred.

“Did he just say Kylo and Hux are sleeping together?” Finn asked.

“I _know,_ right? It all makes sense now, honestly...”

* * *

“Are we all ready?” Holdo asked, her voice firm and silencing the chatter (mainly coming from Ren) in her office.

Ren nodded, as did Poe and Phasma.

“Yes,” Hux confirmed when she looked at him.

“All right, let’s get started.”

Hux opened his fountain pen and held his hand above his notebook, poised to take notes. The rest of the production team did varieties of the same action: Ren set his hands on his laptop keyboard, Phasma and D’Acy unlocked their tablets, and Poe and Kay readied their pens.

“I’ll start off with the _New York Times_ article,” Holdo announced, then began to read.

The reviews of the workshop seemed mostly positive, with a few mixed: the general consensus was a compelling premise, fantastic music, and delightful choreography. It seemed the two big points of contention were the book and the casting.

As they continued on through the reviews, Hux kept a close eye on Ren. He’d been so _nervous_ the other night––an unexpected occurrence for the great Kylo Ren––and the fact that many reviews seemed to have an issue with the script was certainly not going to cheer him up. Hux observed as Ren seemed to grow tenser with each review, his posture slouching more, and his fingers seemed to be typing harder on his poor laptop. Not that anyone had called his writing _bad:_ the issue most had was that some lines felt far too convoluted to suit the stage, and several had remarked those lines had sounded more like a book reading than a musical. It didn’t mean hope was lost––all it meant was that the book needed some tweaking. It was most certainly not the end of the world.

But Hux had a feeling that Ren would see it that way.

“ _‘...Kylo Ren’s book has the fine foundations to an excellent script,’_ ” Holdo read. It was the last review, though some considered it the most important: Maz Kanata was one of the biggest critics on Broadway. “ _‘With some fine-tuning, we think it could even be Tony worthy. But as is, it’s far from Broadway ready.’_ I disagree, but...never mind, I’ll continue reading.” She cleared her throat. “ _‘Our biggest issue, however, were some of the cast selected for_ Queen _. Hux is known for his fondness of raising new talent, and no doubt he pushed for the casting of Rose Tico, making her debut in a leading role. Tico is possibly one of the best parts of_ Queen _, considering even Dameron’s score. The ensemble, made up of a lot of newcomers, also stepped up to the plate and hit the ball out of the park. Our biggest problems were the casting of Ransolm Casterfo and Luke Skywalker as Anakin Skywalker and Sheev Palpatine respectively. Casterfo didn’t hold a candle to his co-star, Tico; while his voice was up to par, we felt his acting fell a bit flat. He should probably stick to working on his next album instead of pursuing a Broadway debut.’_ Ouch.”

Everyone had to grimace at that. It was harsh, even Hux had to admit.

“I can see why his agent called yesterday,” Holdo mused aloud.

“Casterfo’s agent?” Ren asked. “What did he say?”

Holdo gestured for her assistant to answer.

“That, um, Casterfo is pulling out of the production to work on his new album and go on tour,” D’Acy said.

Ren made no comment, instead pressing his lips together tightly in frustration. Hux frowned; he knew Ren had a lot to do with Casterfo’s casting, so this was yet another blow to him.

“Go on, Amilyn,” Poe prompted Holdo.

She took a sip of water before continuing. “Well… _‘Skywalker also felt like an odd choice to us at Takodana dot com. Yes, it seems natural to invite him to work on a musical about his parents, but sometimes just an open invitation to rehearsals and premieres should suffice. Skywalker could have been a formidable Palpatine in his prime, but alongside the fresh, young cast, we had more than a few moments of doubt.’_ Okay, this is all very uncalled for.”

Hux wanted to be smug, but found he couldn’t: even after his failed little plan, Skywalker had always been kind to him and excited about the production. Yes, Hux still thought he wasn’t right for the part, but that didn’t mean liked hearing the man’s performance judged so harshly.

“Just continue,” Ren said. Hux could tell he was gritting his teeth.

“There’s not much left. But…” she inhaled, as if stalling. “ _‘Overall,_ Queen _was a satisfactory effort about a beloved public figure we_ all _want to see immortalised in all forms. Takodana dot com rates it as B++, with the extra plus to indicate it could easily move up to an A off-Broadway––after improvements.’_ ”

The room was silent for a full moment.

Then, Ren stood, chucked his laptop on the armchair he’d been sitting on, and stormed out of the office. The door to the stairwell slammed shortly after.

“All right,” Holdo sighed. “I guess _I’ll_ go after him.”

“I wouldn’t,” Poe cautioned her.

“I just want to make sure he’s not going to destroy my foyer.”

“He’s more likely to if you go after him,” Poe warned her. “He doesn’t take efforts to calm him down very well.”

Holdo exhaled slowly and sat back down. “So? What should we do?”

“I’ll talk to him later,” Poe said. “Give him a chance to cool down, I’ll check in with him.”

“I wasn’t referring to Kylo. I was referring to the production. Obviously we’re without an Anakin––I’m not sure Luke will stay on after these reviews, either. But for now, we’re left in flux over our second lead and we have a script that needs work.”

“And a title that needs fixing,” Poe added, muttering as if Ren could hear him and would take offence.

(Though, knowing him, Hux knew he definitely _would.)_

Holdo hummed in agreement with Poe.

“I have an idea for the script,” Hux interjected. He glanced around at everyone. “But let me tell Ren alone, quietly––he’ll probably take to it better if he doesn’t feel like he’s being attacked.”

Holdo tilted her head, considering. “You’re not talking about a––”

“I am,” Hux confirmed, already knowing what she was going to ask.

“He’s not gonna like that,” Poe warned.

Phasma looked between Hux and Poe. “Like what?”

“I have someone in mind who would be good for this,” Hux explained, ignoring Phasma’s question. “I think even Ren won’t be able to say no.”

“What are we talking about?” Phasma pressed.

“A script doctor,” Holdo answered. “We’re talking about hiring a script doctor.”

* * *

“Shut up! They’re sleeping together?”

The gossip Rey just dropped made Rose pause––she turned away from the stove to look at Rey, just to make sure she wasn’t messing with her.

Rey nodded. “At least, according to Poe. And I don’t know about you, but _I_ believe him.”

“Poe wouldn’t joke about something like that.” Rose turned back to the simmering pot in front of her, stirring again and giving the curry a taste before adding a little more salt. “You know what? It does kind of make sense. During the callbacks when Hux was trying to teach me the choreography, Kylo wouldn’t leave the room at first. He kept on _staring_ at Hux. Probably didn’t realise I noticed him checking Hux out. But Hux had to almost literally throw him out of the room before he gave us some space.”

“Wow,” Rey said. She crossed the tiny kitchenette and leaned against the counter next to the stove to peer into the pot. “Talk about thirsty. Anyway, that smells _so_ amazing.”

Rose smiled. “It just needs a few more minutes. You can get some bowls out and start helping yourself to some rice if you want.”

Following her instructions, Rey took out two ceramic bowls from the cupboard Rose pointed at.

“I’m also surprised about Finn,” Rey went on as she scooped some rice from the rice cooker into each of their bowls. “If I’d known he was interested in Poe I’d have tried to encourage him on earlier.” She paused. “Am I a bad friend that I didn’t know about this until now?”

Rose frowned at her. “No, you’re not a bad friend. I’m sure Finn had his reasons––I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if it was Poe that asked him to keep it quiet.”

“Has he done this before, then?”

“What, sleeping with people in his productions?” Rose shook her head. “No. Poe has always been drawn to people who are really talented, but he knows that he’s in a position of authority when it comes to his own productions. He’s dated people who _have been_ in his musicals before, but never during––at least not as long as I’ve known him.” Rose glanced at her and smiled. “I’d say Finn should take it as a compliment that Poe waited until at least the workshop was over, but not any longer.”

Rey considered it for a moment. “That’s...kind of reassuring?”

“I hope. Now, hand me your bowl––the curry is ready.”

She turned off the burner and accepted the bowl Rey was holding out to her, spooning some of the steaming vegetables and sauce onto the bed of rice. After handing the bowl back to Rey, she served herself before sitting across from her at the lone table in the apartment, legs neatly tucked underneath her as usual.

“Oh my god,” Rey said around the first bite, food still in her mouth. “This is so”––she paused to exhale some steam, then swallowed––“so fucking good! Really hot, but I can’t stop eating now!”

Rose giggled. “Don’t burn yourself.”

“Too late,” she said around another mouthful, “I think I’ve already burned my tongue but this is worth the pain––why haven’t we cooked at yours before?”

“I used to love cooking a lot,” Rose explained. “I haven’t really enjoyed cooking in a while.”

They both paused; Rose didn’t have to say _‘since Paige’s accident’_ for Rey to hear it.

Rey swallowed and smiled. “Well, it’s never too late to get back into it, right?”

Rose nodded, returning her smile, thankful for her not bringing up the elephant in the room. “Definitely never too late. And I’d definitely like to try to get back into it––I used to love finding peculiar recipes on Pinterest and trying them out.”

“As long as it means I can eat food as delicious as this curry,” Rey said, “you can cook whatever you want. I’m not picky and I don’t have any allergies.”

“Great. I guess that’s just another perk of being my girlfriend.”

Rose froze as soon as the words left her mouth.

They hadn’t exactly had _the talk_ yet. Yes, they’d gone out on a few ‘real’ dates and _yes,_ Rose _did_ enjoy the sex––but they had yet to have the discussion about _what_ they were. Was it too presumptuous of Rose to claim they were in a relationship?

Rose realised belatedly that Rey had also fallen silent, the only noise in the apartment being the vague echoes of some neighbour’s music and another 1 train passing by outside. She looked up from her bowl slowly, dreading whatever negative expression Rey might have on––

Oh. Rey was grinning.

“You said girlfriend.”

“Y––yes?”

Rey reached across the table and cupped Rose’s face with one hand. “Don’t overthink it––I feel the same way.” She leaned over the table and kissed her, breaking away before either of them could deepen the kiss, and tucked back into her dinner so casually that Rose almost thought she’d imagined it.

Then Rose grinned, and smiled through the rest of dinner.

* * *

Kylo hopped out of the cab onto the sidewalk and pulled out his phone, taking a second to check the text for the correct apartment number before he even approached the building. Buzzing the apartment, Hux let him in immediately without even confirming it was him; if his apartment was facing the street, he was probably looking out of the window in expectation, anyway. Kylo was only ten minutes late, and that was because of traffic–– _not_ because he left late.

(Though Hux would scoff and chide him for still using cabs and Uber, and probably tell him he should be using public transport instead.)

It was an old building, unlike Kylo’s, so there were no elevators: up four flights of stairs, then. He almost wished Hux had warned him. It _was_ Kylo’s first time to his apartment, after all; it was strange considering they’d been sleeping together for a few months now, but Hux had always just been content to go to Kylo’s place. Kylo had just let that happen.

Until now.

If Kylo were to guess, this invitation was definitely something to do with _Queen_ and not a booty call––Hux would have just shown up at Kylo’s apartment for that. No, this definitely had something to do with the production: after a two month hiatus while they found more investors and an actual theatre to host the show, they were finally starting rehearsals again tomorrow. Kylo had been going through the script and trying to make edits, Poe had been tweaking his old songs and writing a few new ones, while Hux had been working furiously on choreography and direction notes.

Now that he thought about it, Hux was probably having issue with a certain scene and wanted Kylo’s input. Though it _was_ weird that he’d called Kylo over and not just come over to his place as usual.

Kylo barely knocked once on the door before it opened.

Hux smiled at him. “Hi, thanks for coming.”

“Of course,” Kylo said, nodding at him. “What’s going on?”

“Come in,” Hux said instead, avoiding the question. He showed Kylo where to leave his shoes and divested him of his jacket without asking before hanging it up next to––a woman’s coat? “Don’t mind Millicent,” Hux warned just as an orange ball of fur speeded past them towards what Kylo assumed to be the bedroom.

“Right,” Kylo noted, distractedly staring in the direction the cat had run and forgetting about the other jacket hanging next to his. He didn’t realise Hux had moved further into the apartment, presumably to the living room, until Hux was almost out of sight. Kylo followed on his heel quickly.

“Ren,” Hux said as he entered the living room, “let me introduce you to––”

Kylo grit his teeth hard as he saw the woman sitting on the couch. “Leia Organa.”

His mother stood and smiled politely at him. “No need to introduce us, Armitage. We know each other.”

For whatever reason, Hux looked surprised. “Oh.”

Kylo glared at Leia, unwilling to let the conversation go further. Because if Leia Organa was meeting privately with the director of a Broadway musical, there could only be one reason: she was here to be a script doctor.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, sweetie,” Leia chided. “I’m only trying to help. The script needs a few changes and I can help you!”

“Wait, wh––”

Hux looked utterly confused, though Kylo couldn’t figure out why.

“No,” Kylo answered Leia instead. “No, I won’t let you.”

“Ren,” Hux interrupted, “I thought that as Padmé and Anakin’s daughter, Organa would give the script a good personal touch.”

_“Personal touch?”_ Kylo yelled.

“Oh, Ben, calm down,” Leia said. “Armitage doesn’t realise I’m your mother but I didn’t want to correct him––that’s the entire reason you changed your name, isn’t it?”

Kylo felt his skin burning with anger; even his ears felt hot. “It’s _Kylo!”_ he shouted at her.

“What?” Hux asked, his eyebrows raised in shock.

“Yes, that’s right, Armitage,” Leia clarified, infuriatingly calm in all this. “Ben, I mean _Kylo_ , is my son. He changed his name years ago to distance himself from the family legacy. I’m surprised it hasn’t come up yet.”

Hux turned to the window, his face the picture of both realisation and alarm. “It...it makes sense now,” he muttered to himself.

“I don’t want you working on _my_ script,” Kylo insisted, turning back to Leia. “I’ve worked too long to establish my _own_ career just to have you come in and steal the homerun on what could be my magnum opus!”

Leia smiled at him, not condescendingly, which was even more frustrating. “Sweetie. I’m doing this anonymously. I’m just trying to help. You’ll come around.” She stood, collected her purse from the floor and moved towards him to reach up and pat his shoulder. “Armitage just wanted to introduce the idea in private. So you wouldn’t feel attacked. I think the gesture is very nice of him. I’ll be expecting the digital copy of the script in my email soon!”

Wisely, Leia did not attempt to hug Kylo, like she had done when he’d seen her for Christmas. She simply patted his shoulder one more time, side-stepped him, and moved towards the front door.

“Thank you for the tea, Armitage!” she called out from the entryway.

“You’re...welcome?” he called back, still looking shaken.

The door shut with a click, leaving the two of them alone.

“I…” Hux said after a few minutes. “I didn’t know.”

Kylo scoffed. “You didn’t _know?_ And you went and hired a script doctor behind my back?”

“It wasn’t...it was my suggestion, but not only _my_ decision,” Hux said, trying to sound defensive but was obviously still shocked. “But _I’m_ the one who chose Organa, and _I’m_ the one who suggested the first meeting be private.”

“I’m getting a little déjà vu, here,” Kylo muttered through gritted teeth.

“Ren, it’s...it’s not like that, I’m telling you _now_ in private as a courtesy,” Hux went on. “Nothing is set in stone. The contract isn’t signed, _you_ get final approval.”

“Well Leia seems _convinced_ she gets to do it.”

Hux shuffled his feet a bit, but finally the shock seemed to be wearing away. “I’m sorry, I honestly didn’t realise she was...is, sorry, she _is_ your mother. You didn’t explicitly mention any family connections in _Lost Royalty.”_

If Kylo could literally glare daggers, he wished he could right _now._ “Did you even _read_ my book? It’s on my fucking author biography!” Kylo spat, enraged.

“I’ve read _all_ your books, Kylo!” Hux retorted, finally getting defensive. “Forgive me if I don’t read author biographies or blurbs!”

“You could have looked me up online!”

Hux scoffed as if the idea offended him. “After that night in London I didn’t want to get to know you from _Wikipedia,_ you dolt; if I was going to know you, I wanted you to tell me about you yourself! I thought we’d get that chance now!”

Kylo grunted in frustration, beginning to pace around Hux’s living room in a circle. “So why didn’t you reach out to me back in London, hm? After that night? You knew I had a book reading the next day.” Another round of the living room. “If you wanted to get to know me so bad, why didn’t you come meet me there, hm?”

Hux was quiet for a minute. “I _was_ there…”

“...what?” Kylo asked, his pace stilling and his head turning to Hux immediately.

“I _was_ there, at that reading,” Hux admitted. “I wanted...I’d gone intending to approach you afterwards. To find out if you wanted to finish what we started.”

“So…” Kylo tilted his head, confused. “So why didn’t you?”

“I…” Hux sighed. “This is embarrassing.”

“Tell me.”

Another sigh. Hux’s voice was quiet when he responded, and he kept his eyes downcast as if embarrassed. “You only read three chapters. At the reading.”

“So?”

“I wanted...I _needed_ to read the rest. I…” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I bought a copy and went home to finish the whole thing that night.”

Kylo stared at him for a moment. “You missed...an opportunity for sex...to read my _book?”_

“I know it’s stupid!” Hux yelled, finally meeting Kylo’s gaze. “I’ve been telling myself that for _years!_ But in my defense, you had another reading scheduled that I was planning on going to––but you cancelled that one last minute, remember?”

Kylo _did_ remember. He’d gotten food poisoning after the first book reading and had to cancel the second so that he could recover for his transatlantic flight that night.

“Look,” Hux went on, turning away and pacing towards his bookshelf. He pulled out a book, the spine well-worn with age and use, and pulled out a slip of paper from behind the cover. Kylo only recognised the book as his own when Hux held up the bookmark for him to see. “I have the bookmark from that night. The ones they were giving away to commemorate the event. There’s a date on it. And you’d pre-signed the books, so of course you didn’t see me buying one.”

Kylo could only stare at the bookmark and the worn copy of his book. Hux was telling the truth.

Hux delicately placed the bookmark back within the book’s pages and slid it into its place on the shelf. Kylo had to do a double-take when he realised he recognised every single other book on that shelf, too: all of his books, including _Lost Royalty,_ were sat on that damn bookshelf, all their spines crinkled with the sign of several read-throughs. Some had obviously been read more than others, but still––they were all there, all _read,_ and that’s more than Kylo could say for even his own family.

(Was this why Hux had never invited him to his apartment? Because his shelf was packed with all of Kylo’s books?)

“I can’t believe you _left_ to _read,”_ was all he could think to say.

“Make fun of me all you want, I know.” Hux crossed his arms, ready to sulk and accept whatever jibes Kylo made.

Instead, Kylo felt all his anger draining; all the defensiveness he felt at seeing his mother here, all the offence he took at her potentially being his script doctor, it all...evaporated. Staring at Hux, who was apparently one of his biggest fans, all he can feel is _fond._ Hux had had no idea who his family was––Hux hadn’t wanted Kylo because of his family’s legacy, but because of his _own._ They had gotten off to a rocky start when they reconnected here, but Hux had always wanted the best for their production; Hux had put up with all the shit Kylo threw his way and was _still_ here, ready to take more of it. Ready to move on from it, _with_ Kylo.

“You’re a fucking nerd.”

“Excuse me?” Hux asked, his head whipping up.

“You’re a fucking nerd,” Kylo continued, “but you’re _my_ fucking nerd and I think I’m in love with you.”

Hux paused, obviously taken aback with the declaration. To be honest with himself, Kylo was also surprised––but now that he’d said it, he knew it was true.

“I love you,” he repeated. “I can be a little bit of a shit and I was a complete asshole to you at the beginning of this production. Yet you put up with all my crap, you actually _appreciate_ my work, and you’re really fucking hot.” Kylo laughed at himself. “I _love_ you, Hux.”

Hux was blushing a furious red at this point. “I––um, I...I don’t know what to say?”

Kylo grinned and pulled Hux into his arms. “Whatever, I just thought I should get that out there.”

Hux seemed to melt as he tucked his face into Kylo’s chest. “Mmm mm mm,” he tried to speak, but the sounds were muffled.

“What was that?”

“I said,” Hux replied as he looked up, his flush spreading down his neck now, “after all you’ve put me through, I can’t believe I love you, too.”

Kylo leaned down to kiss him, smiling against his lips.

* * *

“Finn!” Luke greeted. The man stood and offered his hand for Finn to shake. “So good of you to come out and meet me.”

Finn accepted his hand, feeling slightly dazed and far too casual for this fancy café, and just nodded when Luke used his other hand to pat him on the back. “I couldn’t refuse,” Finn explained. “Who the hell gets a call from _Luke Skywalker_ to get a coffee with him?”

“Well.” Luke grinned. “Not everybody, you’re right. Anyway, please: sit!” Luke sat back down on his own chair, gesturing at the assorted foods already on the table. “I hope you don’t mind but I went ahead and ordered a tea service for us. You don’t _have_ to have tea, though––help yourself to all the goods and I’ll wave over a waiter for our drinks.”

Nodding, Finn sat down across from him without another word. “Thank you,” he said, still feeling out of his element. He eyed the plate of crustless sandwiches before selecting one that looked like egg salad to put on his plate.

“I hope you’ll have more than that,” Luke joked as he gestured at a waiter. “I certainly can’t finish all this on my own.”

“Right,” Finn agreed. He put another sandwich, a pastry, and a cupcake on his plate, too.

“I’ll have a chai latte, please,” Luke ordered when the waiter arrived. “With extra milk. No sugar.”

When the waiter turned to Finn, he realised he hadn’t even looked at the menu. “Uh, can I get a cold brew, please? With half-and-half on the side?”

The waiter smiled at him. “Excellent choice,” she said. “I’ll get those right out.”

They watched the waiter stride away before Luke went on.

“So, you might be wondering why I asked you here today.”

Finn nodded. “A little, yes.”

“Well,” Luke continued, helping himself to a cucumber sandwich, “you know rehearsals are starting again tomorrow.”

Ah. Finn figured it had something to do with the production. “Yeah. I’ve never worked at the New York Theatre Workshop, but I’ve heard good things.”

Humming in agreement, Luke took a large bite out of his sandwich. “Yes, it’s a great theatre. I know Amilyn and everyone were hoping to go straight to a Broadway run, but I think it’s better this way. Test the show with a _real_ audience first. Anyway”––he paused for another bite––“that’s not why I asked to meet you.”

Finn began to peel the paper off his cupcake just to occupy his hands.

“You read some of the reviews after the workshop, didn’t you?”

“I did,” he confirmed, trying not to grimace. The press hadn’t been so kind to Luke’s performance.

The waiter returned, so they paused as she set down their drinks.

“Thank you,” Luke said, dismissing her.

Finn busied himself with adding his cream and customary amount of sugar ( _too much_ , as Rey called it) to the coffee before taking a large sip.

“So I thought you should know I’m pulling out of the production.”

Finn coughed on his coffee, setting the cup down abruptly and pounding his chest a few times. “Wh––what?”

“I think a few of the critics were a bit harsh,” Luke explained, “but I have to say they weren’t all _wrong._ There’s a reason I retired when I did. And it should have stayed that way, to be honest. But I am honoured to have been invited for _Queen,_ I really am. I had my fun––I already thanked the production team for the lovely trip down memory lane. Now... _now_ I think it’s time for me to pass on the torch to a new generation.” Luke chuckled. “Armitage knows what he’s talking about.”

“But you’re _Luke Skywalker,”_ Finn said. “You’re the best at every role you take on!”

“If that were true, I’d have a lot more Tonys. But I appreciate the sentiment, Finn.”

Finn frowned.

“You must be wondering why I’m telling you, this, right?”

“Yes,” he admitted. He finally bit into his cupcake, the frosting smearing on his upper lip. “I am a bit confused––I would find out tomorrow, wouldn’t I?”

“You would,” Luke confirmed. “But I also wanted to be the first to tell you that Armitage is going to offer _you_ the role of Palpatine.”

Finn felt his jaw drop.

“It’s practically yours, anyway–– _I Am The Senate_ was basically choreographed for you! I wanted to tell you this so that you know I think you should, and that you have my full blessing for the part.” Luke smiled. “I think this could be your big break, Finn.”

“Oh,” was all Finn could think to say.

“Lighten up, Finn,” Luke teased. “You’re going to star on Broadway very soon.”

“Holy shit,” Finn whispered, still absorbing the information.

“Holy shit is right,” Luke said, grinning widely now.

* * *

Rose laughed as Rey exaggeratedly struggled to open the stage door, making it seem like the task was herculean.

“Ugh, I can’t!” Rey claimed, pretending to pull on the door. “You’ll have to go on without me, Rose. I’m too weak.”

“Rey!” Rose giggled. She lightly pushed her aside and opened the door herself, gesturing inside with a flourish. “After you.”

“My hero,” Rey said, grinning. She leaned in and kissed Rose quickly before stepping away.

Rose’s stomach never failed to do a little flip whenever Rey kissed her, even if it _had_ been a few months.

“Go on,” Rey insisted. “I’m only here to drop you off––ensemble isn’t needed today.”

“You can still watch the rehearsal,” Rose argued, but she relented and entered the theatre first. She did hold the door open, though, and stared expectantly at Rey. “You don’t have any shifts today, babe.”

Rey sighed and stepped into the theatre. “You’re sure Hux won’t mind? I know the whole production team are losing it over _still_ not having an Anakin. I wouldn’t want to impose.”

Rose shook her head, taking Rey’s hand as she guided them towards the stage. “They won’t mind. Maybe they’ll even let you stand in for Anakin today,” she teased, sticking her tongue out at her girlfriend.

“Very funny,” Rey said, rolling her eyes at Rose.

Rose squeezed her hand once before letting go––they made sure not to flaunt their relationship in front of everyone else, though it wasn’t like there were many people around the theatre today. Still, Rose was sure that on the production team only Poe knew, and she didn’t want to complicate neither her nor Rey’s position in the show by having more of their superiors know about them.

The concern turned out to be moot, however: the stage and audience seating were completely empty, save for Jessika on the piano onstage and a few members of the orchestra in the pit.

“Where is everyone?” Rose asked Jess, appraising the empty theatre. The front row seats where Amilyn and Kylo usually sat were empty; Poe and Hux’s table were also bare; Phasma was nowhere to be found.

“They’re out in the front lobby,” Jess explained. “They’re having another heated discussion about Anakin.”

“Have they found someone?” Rey asked.

As far as anyone in the cast knew, their bosses had been constantly arguing over Anakin Skywalker’s part for the past few weeks: the butt of the argument was that they couldn’t decide between finding another celebrity to cast or holding more auditions. Rose had overheard more than once Hux suggesting promoting one of the ensemble, but knew he’d been cut down by Kylo or Holdo every time; they’d already moved Finn up from chorus to Palpatine, and they weren’t sure anyone in the ensemble was ready for a role as big as Anakin’s.

Which, Rose disagreed with. But that wasn’t really her business here––she was here to play Padmé, not advise on the production’s casting decisions.

“Do you want to warm up while we wait?” Jess offered.

Rose nodded. “Sure. Rey? Will you warm up with me?”

“Are you sure they won’t mind?” she asked, glancing between the back of the theatre and Jess.

“They’re gonna be a while,” Jess said. She seemed exasperated by the whole thing, since so many rehearsals ended up starting late because of this issue; Rose didn’t blame her. “At this rate I don’t think they’ll ever settle on someone for the part.”

“They should just get Rey to play Anakin,” Rose said, grinning.

Rey rolled her eyes. “It’s not funny, Rose. I would be a terrible Anakin.”

The blatant dismissal of her talent stirred something in Rose: how could Rey not see how amazing she was?

“I think you’d be an _amazing_ Anakin,” Rose responded. “Rey, you’re _so_ talented––did you forget you almost got Padmé? And Anakin’s part is exactly in your range. You could out-dance Casterfo in the workshop, meaning you’d ace any of Anakin’s choreography. I have no doubt you could easily dance or sing whatever Hux or Poe threw at you. And that’s not even to bring up your acting! Rey, you’d give even Luke Skywalker a run for his money with _your_ talent!”

Rey was blushing furiously by the end of her rant. Everyone else was silent: Jess was staring at the two of them, and the orchestra––who had been casually tuning their instruments––had also dropped everything to look up at them. They fell silent for a moment, Rey apparently not knowing what to say, while Rose had no idea how to follow that up.

Then: a few notes on the piano. Jessika was starting to play, and Rose recognised the song immediately as _Across the Stars,_ Anakin and Padmé’s duet.

The violinist, Thanisson, joined in, as did Mitaka the cellist; when Rose began to sing at her cue, the clarinetist Unamo backed up her melody. As it built, Rose started feeling bold: she reached out her hands to Rey, who took both, and they stood there, hand-in-hand, while Rose sang about confessing her love for Anakin.

Rey knew the song, too; she’d heard it enough times. With a smile, obviously feeling a bit silly, Rey came in at Anakin’s cue during the chorus, then sang his verse which declared his own love for Padmé.

Though Rose smiled back, also feeling a little silly, as the song went on she felt like she was listening to the words–– _really_ listening––for the first time. Sure, she’d heard the song a thousand times and sang it even more than that, but she could finally _hear_ it. She was no longer Padmé, no longer admitting to loving Anakin despite the odds against them: she was herself, and she was coming to the realisation that she was in love with Rey.

Rey seemed to have an epiphany, too, during the bridge: either she started to really get into Anakin’s character, or she somehow read Rose’s mind and was reacting to that. Either way, by the end of the song they were both standing centre stage, still holding hands and staring at each other in a way that made Rose forget they were on a stage at all.

A slow clap snapped them both out of it.

“Well done,” Hux called to them, having suddenly appeared in the front row. Even Kylo, Amilyn, Phasma, and Poe had appeared. “That was quite phenomenal.”

Rose dropped Rey’s hands as Rey took a step back, both of them embarrassed at being caught.

“Sorry,” Rey said immediately, “I was just helping Rose warm up, I’ll leave you to rehearsal now.”

Before she could leave the stage, however, Hux called out to her again. “Wait, Rey. Please wait right there.”

And then he was whispering something in Amilyn’s ear.

Rose glanced at her girlfriend; Rey looked back at her with a panicked expression. Rose tried to smile reassuringly at her, but Rey didn’t seem convinced: she continued to shift her weight from foot to foot, biting nervously at her lip.

“No,” Kylo said, in response to something Hux had whispered. “This is _my_ grand _father_ we’re talking about.”

The collective sigh of the production team echoed around the theatre.

“Were you not highly impressed by that performance, Ren?” Hux asked him, loud enough so that everyone could hear.

“Yes,” Kylo mumbled. Or at least Rose assumed he’d said that: she couldn’t really hear him.

“I think it’s a great idea,” Poe said. “Rose and Rey have amazing chemistry, and we know Rey has more than enough talent for the part.”

Rose inhaled sharply and subtly side-stepped closer to Rey.

After a beat, Kylo sighed. “Fine. You’re right. I accept.”

Hux seemed to pat him reassuringly on the shoulder before nodding at Amilyn.

“Rey,” she said to them. “We’d like to offer you the part of Anakin Skywalker.”

Rose couldn’t help the little squeal of delight that escaped her lips. She practically jumped around to face Rey, who was shocked.

“I…I don’t know what to say,” Rey managed.

“Say yes!” Jess yelled at her. A few in the orchestra shouted their agreement.

Rey glanced between Jess, the orchestra, and Rose, before finally settling on Amilyn. “I…I accept?”

Rose couldn’t help but throw her arms around her in excitement, hugging Rey tightly. “I’m so happy!” she whispered in her ear.

Rey hugged her back, squeezing once before whispering: “Me…me too? Yes! Me too!”

“Also”––Rose quickly pecked Rey’s cheek before whispering into her ear again––“I love you, I hope that’s okay?”

This got Rey to lean back, and for a split second Rose began to panic until she saw the grin on Rey’s lips.

“More than okay. _Definitely_ more than okay.”

* * *

Trying not to frown, Kylo sat across the table from his mother. Leia, already sipping on a Long Island Iced Tea, was armed with a pen and his edited manuscript. He pulled out his own copy of the script and set it on the table in front of him, laying his favourite red pen next to it––ready for battle.

“Thank you for coming,” Leia greeted him. She waved at a waiter. “Would you like something to drink? I figured we should eat dinner _after_ the work is done.”

“An Old-fashioned,” Kylo instructed the waiter, who nodded and immediately went off to place his order at the bar.

Leia huffed a short chuckle. “I’m glad you didn’t inherit your choice of drink from your father,” she said.

Kylo tried not to roll his eyes. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with homebrewed moonshine or bottom shelf vodka.”

“You only say that because you inherited _my_ tolerance. Your father has had to get his stomach pumped one time too many.”

“That was _once.”_

Leia shrugged. “Like I said: one time too many.”

This time Kylo _did_ roll his eyes.

“I saw your press release,” Leia said, sipping on her drink. “I liked that Rey––and Luke’s told me a lot about her. I’m sure she’ll be a great Anakin. And I heard she and Rose have great chemistry. And that they’re dating in real life.”

“Why is Poe telling you all the gossip of our production?”

“Who says I’m hearing it from Poe?”

Kylo sighed and stared at her blankly. “Who _else_ would be telling you all this?”

Leia raised an eyebrow at him, as if challenging that statement, one side of her mouth turned up in a half-smile. “I have my sources. Anyway,” she went on, waving her hand dismissively, “I liked what Armitage had to say about the whole casting affair.”

“What did he say?” Kylo asked. They’d finally made the casting announcement yesterday and Hux was supposed to do an interview on it this morning, though Kylo had paid no attention to either in favour of working on the script. The only way it had affected him was that Hux had been complaining about it before he kicked Kylo out of his apartment at an ungodly hour that morning, claiming he needed time to prep for the _phone_ interview.

“You didn’t read it?”

Kylo frowned. “I’ve been working on this”––he patted his manuscript twice––“and since the workshop reviews I’ve mostly been avoiding what people online have to say about the production.”

“He defended the decision very well,” Leia explained. “I quote: _‘I’d like to see you try and tell Shakespeare his lead actors can’t be the same gender.’”_

He had to smile fondly at that. It was just a very Hux response.

Leia observed him quietly, then flashed him a smile. “I know it didn’t start off so smoothly, but I’m glad you two are _getting along_ very well now.” She winked.

Kylo groaned. “I’m not talking about this with you, _mother.”_

“I wasn’t asking,” she said. “Just observing. Hux may not be my kind of person, but I have to respect his results. And not just on stage.”

He threw his head back and sighed at the ceiling. Fortunately, their waiter appeared again with Kylo’s drink. The two of them watched silently as the waiter set down the glass in front of Kylo and offered Leia a refill. She refused––for now––and informed him she would call him over when they were ready to eat.

“Should we get started?” Kylo asked. He picked up his pen and flipped open his manuscript.

He’d been surprised with the changes Leia had made to his script: rather than gut the whole thing, as he had expected, all she’d sent his way were a few rewritten lines and re-ordered scenes, as well as a few wording _suggestions_ instead of edits. Kylo had incorporated them into this edited copy––he begrudgingly had to admit her suggestions actually sounded better than his original––but he knew his mother: there _had_ to be more. He braced himself for the deluge of comments, guessing that she had wanted to give the majority of her feedback in person rather than online.

“The title,” she started. “It’s boring and historically inaccurate. My mother was not actually a queen.”

Kylo grit his teeth. _Everyone_ seemed to be after him to change the title. “She was of a royal bloodline. She was heir to the throne.”

“Of a country that stopped existing last century, which was what caused her family to flee and seek asylum here in the first place.”

“Fine,” Kylo sighed. “I’ll brainstorm other titles. What else?”

Leia eyed him and took a sip of her drink. “There’s nothing else,” she said, almost casually. “The edits you made were excellent––this is performance ready.”

Kylo did a double-take; his _mother_ was _complimenting_ his work?

“Don’t look so surprised, sweetie,” she chided. “Your writing has always been good, you know that. This script just needed a few adaptations for the stage. And now I think it’s ready.”

He stared at her in disbelief.

“I mean it. B––Kylo,” she corrected herself before he could. The gesture was appreciated. “I know...I know we were hard on you, growing up. I know in particular I was pretty free with my criticisms of your writing. But that was because I wanted you to be the best you could be––I wanted you to work hard for your success, so that you knew you had earned it and not had it handed to you. That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it? That’s why you changed your name at all, right?”

Kylo nodded once.

Leia smiled at him. “That was _my_ way of pushing you in the same direction, sweetie. I’m sorry it drove us apart for a few years, but...you have more bestselling books than I do. And I couldn’t be prouder.” She lay her hand on the table, palm up, and wiggled her fingers to gesture at him to grab it. He did, feeling her petite hand squeezing his. “I love you, and I am so proud to be your mother.”

Kylo swallowed, taking his hand back when she let it go. “Thank you,” was all he could say, lamely.

“Now let’s eat?” Leia asked, and even though she made light of the situation, Kylo could see the shine of unshed tears in her eyes.

He said nothing, and ordered his food when she waved the waiter back over.

The rest of the dinner was uneventful: Leia updated Kylo on all the goings-on in their sleepy upstate town and all of Han’s latest antics. She explained the new book she was working on and they laughed over her story of turning down the offer to doctor Aaron Sorkin’s script for the Tarkin sisters’ new movie. Kylo detailed how rehearsals were going, describing the new songs Poe was working on. In the end, Leia insisted on paying and Kylo let her; his mother was still allowed to treat him to some things, as she put it. They parted on a good note, even if while giving him a goodbye hug Leia cautioned him about changing the musical’s title.

Instead of heading home, Kylo took the subway to Hux’s apartment, feeling light as he walked up the last few stairs. Kylo unlocked the door with the spare key Hux had gifted him last week, finding Leonard Bernstein playing softly in the living room when he entered.

“Hi,” he greeted Hux, who was curled up on the couch with a glass of wine, a book, and Millicent in his lap.

“Hello,” Hux said, smiling. He tilted his head up as Kylo approached and accepted the chaste kiss Kylo gave him. “How was dinner?”

Kylo pet Millie, earning him a mew, and sat next to Hux on the couch. He appreciated him bringing up dinner first, and not the script. “It was good. Surprisingly not as painful as I thought it’d be.”

“Oh?” Hux asked, setting his book down on the coffee table.

“Yeah,” he confirmed. He gave a brief summary of the dinner, as well as how Leia said the book was ready.

Hux grinned at him, taking a sip of his wine before he spoke. “So I was right to hire Leia as a script doctor, then?”

“Oh, shut up,” Kylo said, rolling his eyes fondly. “I still have a title to think about, though.”

“Did Leia have any advice for you?”

Kylo nodded. “Just three words: simple, un-vague, and iconic.”

“Hmm,” Hux hummed around a yawn. “That sounds like a problem for tomorrow, Ren.”

“As long as you’re still willing to help in the morning,” Kylo chuckled, “it can wait.”

Hux set Millie on the ground and stood, pulling his robe around him tighter, before going to deposit his glass in the kitchen. “You know I’m always willing to help.”

The best part was: Kylo did know. If he needed help, Hux would be there for him.

They got ready for bed in silence, Hux humming along (badly, but he tried nonetheless) to the tunes of _West Side Story_ , as Kylo smiled fondly to himself. Hux only shut off the music when they got in bed, him tucking himself under Kylo’s arm while Kylo pulled him closer. As usual, Hux was the first to fall asleep: now that they were back rehearsing, he was spending his days constantly on his feet again and was always tired in the evenings. Kylo, too, had been sleeping easily the past few days, having tired out his eyes by staring at his laptop for long hours during the day.

Only tonight he was wide awake, pondering Leia’s advice: simple, un-vague, and iconic.

It hit him after a few hours.

“Hux,” he whispered, jostling the other man gently to wake him. “Hux, I’ve got it.”

“Hm?” Hux murmured sleepily. “Got what?”

Kylo grinned in the dark. “The title. The title of _our_ musical.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (the title is: AMIDALA)
> 
> aaaaand there it is. there is a very short kylux only epilogue which i may or may not post? but thank you to everyone who read this indulgent little AU of mine, and thank you for coming along on this (short) journey with me. i'm very proud of it, since it is only the second longfic/multi-chaptered fic i've finished. and, if you feel like it, come say hi on [twitter](https://twitter.com/biotcnerfherder)!


	6. Encore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> encore [noun]: an additional or repeated performance of an item at the end of a concert; any repeated or additional performance or appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so after months of not writing, i finally opened up my google docs last night to realise i'd never posted this short kylux-centric epilogue. there are some people i have to thank for convincing me to try and get over my anxiety and just post this last tidbit, y'all know who you are so thank you <3

_One and a Half Years Later_

Hux began to tap his foot softly, wiping his sweaty palms along his trouser thighs. This was the last commercial break before they announced _Best Musical_ , and even though he’d promised himself he wouldn’t be nervous, he still felt it.

Ren placed his hand on Hux’s thigh, squeezing once gently, so that he stopped bouncing his leg. Instead, he began to bounce the other leg––Poe, on his other side, kicked his foot, so he stopped shaking that leg, too.

“It’s fine,” Ren leaned over to whisper. “You’ve already got your award; we don’t need this win.”

Hux wanted to scowl at him, but didn’t have the heart: yes, his new Tony was now sitting backstage, being engraved with his name, and so was Poe’s. _Best Direction for a Musical_ and _Best Original Score_ , both awarded to _Amidala._ Ren hadn’t won _Best Book of a Musical_ , and though he’d taken it in stride, Hux worried he might be upset when they got home later.

Which was why he wanted them to win _Best Musical_. So that Ren could have an award to call his own.

It was all a matter of proving himself, Hux had found out early on in their now two-year relationship. Ren had gotten much better at accepting criticism and working with others, and his disposition had certainly improved more when he’d started work on his new novel after their Broadway debut, but there were still moments in which he got upset. Hux hated to see him like that––it reminded him too much of the time they were both too stubborn to just _shut up and_ _cooperate_ ––and so he found himself more nervous for this awards show than any other in his career. In a twist of fate, it seemed, he cared more about Ren’s career than his, this evening.

The cue for the live broadcast to resume came and they were soon applauding Audra McDonald to announce _Best Musical_ winner.

“We have plenty of wins, Hux,” Poe tried to comfort him. “We don’t need this one.”

That was true: though Rey hadn’t won _Best Performance by a Leading Actress_ , she’d lost to Rose, her girlfriend _and_ co-star, so that was still a win for _Amidala_. Finn also hadn’t won _Best Performance by a Featured Actor_ , but Tallie had won _Best Performance by a Featured Actress_. Even Karé had won _Best Costume Design_. Five Tony Awards were more than enough.

(But six _would_ be nice.)

The applause kicked up again, and suddenly everyone around him was standing; Hux had missed the announcement, so preoccupied with his thoughts. Hux began to clap, ready to congratulate his colleagues, until Ren shoved him in Poe’s direction.

Poe’s chair, which was now empty, because he was heading up to the stage to accept _Best Musical_.

Right. Hux immediately staggered out of the row, following in Poe’s footsteps towards the stage, since he was expected up there too. He waited for Ren in the aisle, who took his hand and intertwined their fingers––Hux was thankful for it. Even though he hated public displays of affection, he needed the stability right now; he felt like he could faint.

Poe accepted the little statue while Holdo began to make some remarks at the microphone: all the while, Hux grasped Ren’s hand tightly as he stared out into the bright lights and the audience past it. Poe said a few words after Holdo, and then offered Ren the mic when he realised Hux would not be saying anything.

“Well,” Ren began, “thank you, thank you for this great honour. I just hope my grandparents are looking down at us and smiling.” He paused to kiss the fingers on his free hand––his other was still clutching Hux’s––and pointed them upwards. “This production really started as a tribute to my grandparents, the late Senator Amidala and Anakin Skywalker. But, really, it became a story of love: of how a great love could defy the odds, of how it could empower and inspire someone to change the world. So…I promised myself if we won tonight I’d do this, so here goes.”

Ren stepped back, reaching into a pocket on the inside of his jacket, before dropping down onto one knee in front of Hux.

Hux chose exactly that moment to faint, on live television, but not before having two thoughts: one, that he was never going to forgive his now-fiancé for this; and two, that he was very proud of Kylo Ren.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in this soon to be post-tumblr era, come find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/biotcnerfherder)!


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